The Sutlers Supreme

The Korean Roadhouses

(Part Three)

As the roadhouses settled into the Korean landscape, their story shifted—from construction and placement to routine and memory. This final instalment gathers the last pieces: photos, press clippings, and recollections that show how these welfare posts were used, remembered and reported. What emerges is a quieter narrative—one shaped less by official accounts and more by the lived experience of those who passed through.

(George Forty- At War in Korea (Arms and Armour).
Newcastle roadhouse with hard standing vehicle park—marking the shift from tents to timber-built rest stops.

The image above is taken from a NAAFI advert, likely printed in a regimental or unit publication. The central photo shows the Newcastle roadhouse, with its distinctive hard standing vehicle park - a detail speaks to the growing permanence and practicality of these welfare posts.
The following transcript is drawn from a personal reflection by Lt-Colonel Soden, who was in charge of RASC/EFI operations in Korea from April 1952 to April 1953. First published in NAAFI News (Summer 1953), this excerpt—now part of my NAAFI ephemera collection—focuses on the development and operation of the roadhouses*. Lt-Colonel Soden's remarks offer a rare glimpse into the logistical challenges and welfare priorities of the time, shaped not only by supply constraints but by a genuine concern for the wellbeing of those stationed far from home.
*This excerpt has been transcribed from NAAFI News (Summer 1953). The section reproduced below focuses specifically on Lt-Colonel Soden’s remarks regarding the Korean roadhouses. Minor formatting adjustments have been made for clarity.
“We decided that the child, growing in importance, should be better clothed… a good bargain was struck with General Cassels… for Div. to provide labour and transport for felling and delivering timber. NAAFI to provide technical and supervisory labour for planning and building.”
“Watching Koreans build a hut in local style… gave us a clue as how to fashion the ‘new suit of clothing’. From then on an operation started… rebuilt roadhouses in picturesque old-world pub style with timbered ceilings, thatched roofs… brick and tiled fireplaces… surrounded by hard standing vehicle parks and gardens.”
“The roadhouses—carmen’s ‘pull-ups’ situated on the main supply route—were the child of my predecessor, Freddy Bridgett… In his day of more active battle operations, the roadhouse functioned, of necessity, in tents—poor protection against the intense severity of the Korean climate.”
“The die-hards declared it was ludicrous in theatre of war… HQ Div. and NAAFI listened, returned knowing winks and proceeded with the building programme.”
“Last winter… drivers and their passengers… poured into the roadhouses all day, thawed out, and blessed the comfort of NAAFI roadhouses… In summer they equally blessed this cool retreat from the blazing sun and choking, yellow dust of Korea.”
“In my memory I see those international cafés… silent, solemn-eyed bearded Turks gaze at voluble French troops… Australians taunt New Zealanders… soldiers from Ethiopia, Greece and Thailand are all NAAFI’s customers.”
“One typical incident comes to mind… ‘Why the hell can’t we have roadhouses like this in the United States sector of theatre?’ a G.I. asks. A British Tommy, reaching for a packet of Woodbines, mutters: ‘Bloody dollars won’t buy ’em a NAAFI.’”
While Soden’s reflections capture the planning and pride behind the roadhouse programme, it’s in the recollections of those who used them daily that their everyday significance comes into view. One such voice is Sapper Hugh Jones, an Army Post Office driver with the Royal Engineers. In 1953, his mail runs north of Seoul took him through difficult terrain and unpredictable conditions. His observations offer a glimpse into the roadhouses not as abstract amenities, but as practical lifelines—welcoming, familiar, and quietly essential.
Mail Runs and Roadhouse Relief
“In Korea during the war the airmail would arrive at Kimpo in the mid-morning, from Tokyo I think, courtesy of the Royal Australian Air Force. From Kimpo it was taken into Seoul to the Army Post Office located in a bank in the Forward Maintenance Area.”
“After sorting the incoming local mail for any miss-sorts meant for the Commonwealth Division, it was off on another milk run. The Commonwealth Division was located 20 miles north of Seoul on the Imjin River where it cuts across the 38th Parallel.”
“Twenty miles may not seem too far a distance to travel when the road is a modern four-lane highway, but the Korean roads in those days were in poor shape—bearing the constant and incessant military traffic that never seemed to stop, feeding and supplying the United States 1 Corps, of which the Commonwealth Division was an important element.”
“That highway was known as Route 3 in those days, which we took to Uijongbu. Route 3 continued going to the northeast, but we went north on Route 33.”
“This took us to the Tokchon railhead and the NAAFI roadhouse, where there was always a welcome cup and a wad.”
“We then had a choice of two ways of getting to the Commonwealth Division rear HQ at Fort George rear—left through a pass between a hill range, which took us to the rear echelons and the rest area for the brigade that was out of the line, and the Widgeon crossing of the Imjin below the 38th. Upstream above the 38th was the Teal crossing.”
“This is the very area of the Battle of the Imjin* the previous year, when the Gloucestershire Regiment was surrounded by the 63rd Chinese Army and taken prisoner.”
“Most times we went directly north to get to the Army Post Office.”
*The Battle of the Imjin River, fought in April 1951, was a major engagement involving British troops during the Korean War. It saw intense fighting and heavy losses, particularly for the 29th British Infantry Brigade. All roadhouses mentioned in this article were located south of the Imjin—a few miles away from the front line—but still close enough to serve those moving through the theatre.
Unusual Visitors

Though their purpose was practical, the roadhouses often became settings for stories that broke from the ordinary.
While the roadhouses were built to serve weary troops and supply convoys, they occasionally became the backdrop for moments that defied routine. Two such stories—one of reunion, the other of humanitarian kindness—reveal how these timber-built havens offered more than just tea and shelter.

NAAFI News Summer 1953.
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Roadhouse Reunion – A Memory Rekindled

The cutting here recounts a chance meeting between Private John Roberts of the RASC/EFI and Major-General West, then GOC 1st Commonwealth Division. The encounter likely took place during the opening ceremony of the Northlands roadhouse—the last of the four roadhouses constructed to serve British and Commonwealth troops in Korea.

What made the meeting remarkable was not just its setting, but its history. Both men had served together in the same Brigade in Burma during the Second World War. Years later, in a very different theatre of conflict, they found themselves reunited—one now the senior commander, the other still serving quietly in the ranks. The exchange was brief but meaningful, a reminder of shared hardship and enduring camaraderie.

The article, written by Sergeant Mark Carson, captured the moment with understated grace. A photograph shows Major-General West and Private Roberts in conversation, flanked by another soldier, their expressions marked by recognition and reflection. These unexpected reunions—were part of the roadhouse story too.

A NAAFI Cuppa – With Help from Norway

In another quiet moment, a Norwegian MASH unit is seen offering a hot drinks to a recently treated Chinese and North Korean prisoners of war. The cutting explains a simple act of humanity; a NAAFI cuppa extended those about to endured captivity.
This moment took place within the broader context of NORMASH—the Norwegian Mobile Army Surgical Hospital—which operated in Korea from July 1951 to November 1954. Originally proposed by the Norwegian Red Cross and approved by the Norwegian government, NORMASH was Norway’s contribution to the United Nations’ military and humanitarian efforts during the Korean War. Staffed by rotating crews of Norwegian doctors, nurses, and support personnel, the hospital treated over 90,000 patients, including civilians, allied soldiers, and even enemy combatants.
The unit was first established in Uijongbu, north of Seoul, and later relocated to Dongduchon near the 38th parallel. Despite harsh conditions, the Norwegian teams achieved remarkable outcomes—saving approximately 98% of the wounded brought to their care, with 80% returning to active duty.
Alongside surgical care, the presence of Norwegian staff brought moments of humanity to the front. Whether offering tea, tending to the wounded, or simply listening, their work reflected the same spirit found in the roadhouses: hospitality, dignity, and solidarity across national lines.

Belfast Telegraph 22nd October 1951.

The Staff Behind the Counter – From Canvas to Comfort
Before the timbered ceilings and brick fireplaces, there were canvas tents and roadside grit. The image below shows Sgt. Beauchamp of the RASC/EFI setting up a canvas roadhouse on the Korean main supply route—simple, practical, and welcoming to all. A hand-painted sign reads “SUPPERS ALL WELCOME”, capturing the spirit of hospitality that defined NAAFI’s presence from the very beginning.
NAAFI News September 1951
Early canvas roadhouse offering hot meals
and morale support.
These makeshift canteens were staffed by individuals who worked long hours in harsh conditions, often improvising with limited resources. They brewed tea in freezing winds, served meals to convoys arriving at all hours, and kept the atmosphere welcoming—to all.
As the roadhouses evolved, so too did their staffing. In the later timber-built welfare posts, a new presence emerged: the WVS ladies. Their arrival brought not only practical support but a distinct sense of grace, warmth, and quiet resilience.

The WVS Ladies – Grace and Grit in Timbered Comfort

As the roadhouses evolved, a new presence emerged: the women of the Women’s Voluntary Service (WVS). Working often in liaison with NAAFI, WVS members staffed canteens, ran clubrooms for junior ranks, and offered a quiet kind of support—practical, steady, and deeply appreciated. Founded in 1938 to recruit women into Air Raid Precautions during the Second World War, the WVS gradually expanded its remit to include a wide range of services for British military personnel and their families. These included entertainment, welfare support, and the staffing of canteens—often in close partnership with NAAFI operations in garrisons and camps.
The WVS remained a civilian body, unpaid apart from a modest expense allowance, and—as the name implies—entirely voluntary. Its members operated clubrooms for junior ranks and airmen, looked after troop welfare, and, as one observer put it, helped maintain “that thin veneer of civilisation which we tend to discard in an all-male society.”
During the Korean War, the WVS ran three centres at Inchon, Pusan, and Tokchon, offering a home away from home for British and Commonwealth troops deployed between 1950 and 1953.

Torbay Express & South Devon 15th August 1953.

Billie and Mary Burgess – Quiet Service at the Ship Inn

Australian War Memorial MELJ0196
Mary Burgess, WVS volunteer, tending to records at the Ship Inn.

Australian War Memorial MELJ0197
Billie and Mary Burgess arranging flowers—small acts of care in a timbered refuge.

Sisters Billie and Mary Burgess came from Bristol and served as WVS volunteers during the Korean War. Stationed at the Ship Inn roadhouse, they helped create a space that offered more than just tea and tobacco—it was a place of quiet refuge for the troops. Inside, they found a canteen, shelves of books from the WVS Library, board games, and a record player spinning familiar tunes. For many, these simple comforts were a lifeline—an echo of home in a landscape marked by hardship and loss. Billie and Mary brought warmth and steadiness to the space.
In the images above, they are seen tending to flowers and handling records—small gestures that carried quiet meaning for those passing through. Their work, like that of so many WVS volunteers, was unpaid and largely unheralded. But it helped maintain morale, dignity, and the fragile thread of humanity that soldiers clung to in wartime.

From Postcard to Perspective

This marks the third and final instalment of the Korean Roadhouses series. That said, I suspect there’s still more to uncover. With time, further research, and perhaps new stories shared through social media, I may return to this subject in a future article.
Considering that this began with nothing more than an old postcard, we’ve travelled a fair distance. My understanding of NAAFI roadhouses has deepened considerably, and my knowledge of the Korean War—of which I knew very little—has grown in ways I hadn’t expected.
This has been a quietly rewarding project—one I’ve genuinely enjoyed researching. NAAFI is sometimes unfairly criticised by those it serves, but I believe this series has shown that, in this instance, everyone involved in the planning, construction, and running of the roadhouses succeeded in delivering something truly useful and well-regarded.
Thank you to those who’ve read, shared, or contributed along the way. Every memory, clipping, and kind word has helped shape this series. If more roadhouse stories surface, I’ll be ready to listen—and perhaps, to write about them again.