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1942: At No.4 1 Infantry Training Centre.
Deepcut Barracks.
The Corporal Head i/c of our barrack room. There were 4 of us from West
Wales. David from Llanelli, Jones from Carmarthen, Hale from Ammanford and
myself. The other 3 were Welsh speaking. Hale struggled to speak English.
Each night we stood by our beds at 2200hrs for Roll Call. This done lights
were switched off and blackouts taken down and windows pushed up halfway
(plenty of good fresh air). One night soon after our arrival Hale had a
nightmare and was shouting out in Welsh. I was used to the language and
took no notice. Cpl. Head, a regular who had seen service on the Northwest
Frontier leaped out of bed, shouting “put the blackouts on the windows and
get up the Germans are here”.
Horse hair what's that? Every time we went
to a new location you were issued with a canvas paliasse and queued
at a pile of straw to fill it. When we arrived
at SOTB in the Isle of Man, and as our Squad were the baggage party,
nearly all the straw was gone when it was our turn. However we had
one lad called Ashford who
had somehow dodged off and got there first and overfilled his
paliasse.He was on the top bunk
of one of those high wartime bunks. During the night he turned over
in his sleep and fell six feet to the floor. He was semi conscious
and
taken to Hospital at Onchon. He was a clerk in the City of London
and his Hobby was collecting ,train ,tram and bus tickets and
routes. He kept rabbiting on to the Doctors about this and they
thought he had damaged his brain so he was discharged from the Army,
I met himw hen we were stationed in London together. There was
nothing wrong with him we were used to his talking bus routes all
the time. Takes all sorts. |
The food at Deepcut Barracks was awful. We had one slice of bread for
breakfast and two slices for tea. Two companies, some 300 men ate at the
same time each meal in the Mess Hall. One day the Orderly Officer, a young
2’ Lt. accompanied by the Orderly Sgt. and Orderly Cpl. arrived at our
table. “Any complaints” said the officer. I stood up and said “Can I have
another slice of bread sir”?. The young officer said to the Sgt. “Can
He?”. “No sir, he has had his rations. Cpl. take this mans name and
number”. Later that day our platoon was on the parade ground at drill when
the Orderly Cpl. told the drill Sgt. James, that I was to go before the
Colonel. Sgt. James (also our Platoon Sgt.) was shocked, “What have you
done?” he said. I was marched in before the Colonel (an old Indian Army
wallah) and he said “You asked could you have another slice of bread”.
“Yes sir” I replied. He then went into a lengthy explanation of how army
rations were given out to each man. “Do you understand?” he said. “Yes sir
as a matter of fact until 2 weeks ago I was a NAFFI stores manager dishing
out these rations to the Army and RAF”. This took the old Colonel by
surprise. “Are you saying that you are not getting your fair share of
rations”? he asked I was not that daft to accuse them of that. “No sir, I
just asked if it was possible to have another slice of bread”. Relieved at
this the Colonel then said “You will look back on these days when you have
3 meals a day and a warm dry bed to sleep in and think how lucky you
were”. You know he was right - living on Compo rations, sleeping in wet
clothes and always cold and hungry. He did have a point.
| A little tale about a lad on our Watch at
Bishops Waltham . He was from
Yorkshire and a very religious Methodist. He never swore, smoked or
drank alcohol and was the odd man out, but he was a first class
operator who gave his
best all the time.
The night the V1 dropped on us the Section
Sgt. made me as Orderly NCO call a Roll Call Prade in the field at
7.30am.18 names were missing. I had the names and numbers of 17
which I had left in Netley Military
Hospital but one Signalman was missing, our Methodist friend. An
intensive search of the undergrowth revealed nothing and I was
accused of not having the right numbers from the Hospital. However
just after 8 am our friend comes in through the gate into the
field. It was the only time I have ever heard our Section Sgt blow
his top. Where have you been you miserable bloody man?
Reply: "I spent the night down at the
Methodist Ministers House where I go for a bath when off duty." He
was put on a Charge and got 14 days CB.
I haven't mentioned his name as I often get emails from him.
He went to College after demob and became
a Minister, also a Forces Chaplain is a member of the RSA, and
today being Sunday is most probably preaching in some Chapel or
other. He always says the lads he served with were the best thing
that ever happened to him, although he did take some stick. |
1943: S.O.T.B. There are some tales I dare not tell.
January: Our leave from Isle of Man.
The Orderly Cpl. was late calling us. We had to have breakfast, hand in
our plates, soup and dinner, kit bag and blankets to the Company
Quartermaster, parade in full field marching order with rifle and then
march 2 miles down the Promenade to catch the ferry boat at the docks. It
was raining and blowing a Force 8 gale, and we certainly were not hanging
about. As we passed HMS Valkyre (an Asdic Training School) there were some
sailors and officers there, one blowing a bugle as we sped past to make
sure we were on the boat before it left for Fleetwood.
Some weeks after we came back off leave, we were in our classroom
listening to more and more Morse when Lt. Col DuCroix and the RSM came
into the room. He said that he had received a complaint from the C.O. of
HMS Valkyre that one morning when they were breaking the colours a squad
of soldiers went past without stopping and saluting. He had narrowed it
down to our squad going on leave. There was silence, so I asked “What is
this breaking the colours Sir”? As a regular Officer he went into a long
explanation of how in all service establishments every morning and evening
they hoist or take down the Union Jack, so if you are passing anywhere and
you see this happening you stop and salute. On the way out the RSM could
see I was laughing, and said “Are you sure that you did not know about
this?”. I said “Sir I played the Bugle in a Boy Scout Band, but we were
late and no way were we going to miss that boat for some sailors playing
Navy”. He was a great RSM, he only smiled and walked away.
In our A Type Mobile Section we had a Cpl.
Instruments and a Signalman Instruments and a Signalman Electrician.
All these three had motor bikes and when
the Section was on the move were expected to be part of Convoy
duties. Now the Electrician Signals hated the motorbike mainly
because the poor sod was afraid
of it and was usually at the rear of the convoy.
Once when we were on the move through
France the Cooks Wagon towing the water trailer was at the back and
broken down. The Signalman was "Dinger" Bell and instead of
dashing forward to stop the convoy just sat there.
Some 30 miles later when the convoy stopped
it was discovered the the most important truck in the Section was
missing.
That was the last time dinger rode that
motor bike one of the Operators volunteered to take it after that. |
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| Christmas Eve 1943 our unit was stationed
at Hamstead, North West London. We came off watch at 1600 hrs on a
few of us caught the Underground to Camden Town to visit the local
Music Hall and have a few beers.
The Christmas Spirit was certainly lacking at that time of the War
in London, and we on our way back to our billets It was on the
platform at Camden Town Underground, which was full of Londoners
sleeping there, we came across two Canadian Soldiers from the
Toronto Scottish, looking more miserable than ourselves. On talking
to them it
appears that they had come to London on leave, picked up with two
girls and gone with them to some drinking club.
They had been slipped a Mickey Finn and
woke up next morning in the doorway of a bombed out building, minus
their money, paybooks, greatcoats, respirators and helmets.
The rest of my watch said we can't leave them here its Christmas day
tomorrow. So we took them along with us back to Hampstead. One thing
about the Blackout was that whilst some of the lads were chatting up
the driver on sentry duty I smuggled these two past him and into our
billet. Now we had quite a few Scots lads in our unit and when they
saw them and heard their plight, the Xmas parcels came out and
cookies and cakes devoured. I had one sleeping in my room as my mate
who was a Irish Londoner had gone home.
Next morning I had a whip round for pennies
from the Watch and took these two to the cookhouse for breakfast and
then to the Hampstead Tube Station bought their tickets (four pence)
to Trafalgar Square so they could go to the Beaver Club (which was
adjoining) for the day.
When we were eventually in France we often
wondered if those two
had survived the Normandy landings, especially the Scots lads. One
thing we all had in those dark days was comradeship for one another,
what a come down this Country has become today.
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1943: London.
Whilst stationed in London we were, for administration purposes, part of
the Westminster Garrison. Soon after arriving in London, Her Royal
Highness, the Princess Royal was taking the salute on the Parade Ground of
Wellington Barracks of London District Signals. Our Unit had to supply 6
men for this parade on a Sunday afternoon. I, as a L/Cpl. and 5 others (ex
Infantry) were detailed for this. We left in the mid morning and caught
the underground train to Green Park. We would be in plenty of time. We had
polished our boots to perfection, were wearing web belts, blancoed, and
brasses gleaming. Whilst travelling on the tube, at one station, a man got
in, black jacket and vest, pin stripe trousers, bowler hat, brief case and
umbrella and wearing glasses. He tripped over my boots, leaving a nasty
mark on shining toe cap. I called him a stupid so and so. Opposite was an
army officer hiding behind a Sunday newspaper. When we got to Green Park
station the Officer was alighting as well as us. He was a Brigadier, and
on the platform he said “Cpl. you were not very kind to that civilian”.
“No Sir” I said, “we are just going on parade at Wellington Barracks for
H.R.H. the Princess Royal”. “Never mind” he said “I expect some guardsman
has a boot brush and duster”.
| When we were in Palace Camp Isle Of Man we
used to hang our greatcoats up dolly fashion.
The NAAFI was in the Palace Ballroom and the ATS
used to beat the lads to buy the Pipe Cleaners for hair curlers.
We got our own back by buying the Clear
Nail Varnish which when applied to polished greatcoat buttons saved
polishing them again for months. All clever stuff. Surprising what
you learn in a lifetime. |
1943: Bishops Waltham.
We had 2 operators who were Militia men called up just before the outbreak
of war. They were signalmen Toombs and Deakin. They were Labour Exchange
Clerks, and on finishing their training as Operator Special, were sent to
a Unit on the top of the Rock of Gibraltar. They were there for 3 years,
as the Army in wartime still called this a Home Posting. They had been
stuck there without leave and unable to get of the Rock and all they did
was read cowboy and western paperbacks, and play Cowboys and Indians. It
took us a long time to get accustomed to them. We all thought they were
barmy. At first, and as drinking water was rationed, they used to wash and
bathe in sea water, using a special soap which caused their skin to be
rather brown. They were both good shots with a bow and arrow and using a
sling.
1944: Normandy.
I used to travel with the driver in the cab of our 4 x 4. 3 ton Bedford.
The rest of the watch were in the back sitting on the kit. We leagured
down one night in a field, sleeping in a haybarn. It had rained heavy
during the night and next morning after breakfast we lined up in convoy
and as we were coming out of the field the CO’s staff car (a Ford shooting
brake) got stuck in 2 feet of mud. Our truck was following. The C.O was
standing on his seat, head and shoulders through the hatch. There was a
bank by my door so I stood on top of it. I told my driver to ease up so
his bar (to carry a roll of barbed wire) was against the spare wheel of
the staff car. I then told the C.O. to tell his driver to engage low gear.
Off they went, but I was left standing on the bank. I had to wait until
the cooks wagon came along and climb onto the water trailer where I hung
on for miles until the convoy stopped. Our 2 i/c Captain Spicer said to me
later, “Good thinking Cpl. The only trouble was I was sitting in the back
of the car and the spare wheel jammed me up against the front seat”. Well,
he didn’t get his feet wet.
On VE Day I was on the River Elbe with the
9th US Army, the Russians were the
other side of the River. We could not believe that the War against
Germany
was over, and the next day I received the good news that I was
promoted Cpl and sent
home to be part of the Allied Force for the assault on the Japanese
mainland.The War Office had a
list of all the men that would be brought home from
Germany for this job We came home trained up and were awaiting
transport to go
when suddenly the War ended and VJ Day so we were not needed. When
attending
the Enigma Reunions at Bletchly Park I was shown a copy of a Top
Secret US
Document that stated that the estimated casualties for the landing
and capture
of the Japanese Islands would be 250,000 dead and twice that number
wounded, as
they expected the Japanese Army and Civilians would fight to the
end.
There are people who say that it was wrong to have dropped those two
Atom
Bombs, but I don't agree as I might have been one of the 250,000
killed. |
Brussels:
One afternoon whilst at our base in Brussels (The Hospice De.St. John) I
was playing football (left half) with our section 7 SWS against 110 SWS.
Many VI rockets were falling on Brussels at this time. Halfway through the
first half one went overhead, and the engine stopped. As a team all our
Section made for the ditch. The team from I IO SWS (all ex Desert Rats)
shouted “It isn’t half-time yet”. We replied “It is for us, once bitten
twice shy”. We were all reluctant heroes (including the Section Sergeant a
regular and ex boy).
On the Banks of the River Maas.
I have been told that as I am old I have not moved with the
times, but I
cringe when I see all these people on TV who have not shaved that
day, certainly
they could have made an effort before appearing. The days of the
City gent are
gone the bowler hat, pinstripe suits and rolled umbrella. Ties have
gone on the
back burner and it's open-necked trendy shirts.Well I
suppose it's like the days of the long hair and Teddy Boy Suits, it
all a
phase, which seems to have rolled over to the Police and other
organisations,
like my Postman wearing shorts and a baseball cap. The Navy only
wear Square
Rig for ceremonial duties they have berets and combat suits. I
wonder what the
Army will do next? |
When we came back up to Holland from the Ardennes, the only place we could
find to set up our DIF site was in the middle of a large open area. There
was a hut which had housed chickens, and had a tiled roof and a secure
door on it. It provided enough room for the six of us to put our bedding
rolls down, but no more. As it was still snowing and bitterly cold this
was just the place for us. We set up our station ready for operations in
the morning and climbed into our blankets. After a few hours everybody was
itching like mad. We had to be careful with lights as the Germans were
across the other bank of the river. We stripped off and found we were
being bitten by chicken fleas. The indomitable driver Jimmy Cox came up
with the solution, coming in from the Bedford truck with a large cylinder
tube of powder which we used like talcum. It did the trick and we were
able to get some sleep. Next morning I asked Jimmy what the powder was. He
said I must get another refill from the Stores Sgt. It said on the box it
was D.D.T. Well I am still alive.
Secret Waste:
All members at S.O.T.B. had to sign the Official Secrets Act and as L/Cpl.
in charge of the D!F loop we carried a self igniting phosphorus bomb in
the D/F trailer and the wireless truck. It did not matter if the Germans
captured us, but we must destroy our gear. Every evening I had to
personally burn the Log Sheets for the day and the used pages of the one
time pad (our Cipher). At this time there was an old German gun
emplacement behind our chicken shed, so every evening before it got dark I
had a tin of sand which I poured petrol into and set it alight and burned
each piece of paper. The idea was that if you kept stirring the sand you
had a good flame. We used this idea for cooking, it was a trick we learned
from the “Dessert Rats”. On the parapet of this gun emplacement were linen
bags with like pencil leads in. I used one of these to stir the sand and
it burned like a sparkler. After a few days I tried holding 4 or 5 of
these pencil leads to stir the flame and there was an almighty flash which
removed my eyelashes and eyebrows. In the copse behind us was a 25 pounder
Artillery Battery. Soon after an irate officer accompanied by his Sgt.
came and wanted to know what bloody fool had caused this light, as he was
sure that the German observers would reply with some shells. Of course he
was right and they sent a few rounds over. I admitted that I was burning
some waste papers and had stirred it with these pencil leads. He looked at
me in amazement. “Don’t you know what they are?”. I had been taking the
fillings out of bags of cordite. Well I was a signaller not a gunner. The
Sgt. returned with some of his men and removed the bags of cordite. You
learn something new every day. Later ii life 1 saw pictures of the Royal
Navy loading their guns, so I now know what the bags of cordite are for.
You are old enough to remember carrying
your Wartime Idenity Card which went
on until the late 50's when eventually all types of Rationing
ceased.
When I was PC Plod this was very handy as if you stopped someone you
thought
was suspicious you demanded to see his ID Card which had to be
carried at
all times.
I stopped two young men thumbing a lift one day when investigating a
house
breaking,I entered their particulars from the ID Cards in my Pocket
Book.Later
that day when discussing with my Sgt what progress we had made I
referred to
one of these addresses, which was 10,Oystermouth Road, Swansea. The
Sgt rang the
Police HQ in Swansea to enquire about this address. The Copper at
Swansea
laughed, as it was the address of Swansea Prison. When anyone was
released from
there they couldn't put Swansea Prison on the ID Card so they put
the Postal
Address.
The culprit was eventually caught for another offence at Warminster,
and I
brought him back and at the Quarter Sessions he got 4 years for that
offence and
others as he spent more time in Prison than out. |
The Bedford I5 cwt.
About this time our Section was at 2 Army Advance H.Q., and on our weekly
trip to get mail and rations and other supplies the fan belt on the
Bedford snapped and the radiator was boiling. I hitched a lift to the
nearest REME camp and they sent a tow truck to recover us. After much
discussion I was informed that they did not have a fanbelt for a Bedford I
5cwt in stock, but the Officer in charge told the Cpl. to tow us to
Eindhoven to base workshops. So duly we arrived at base workshops and a
very kind MSM (W.O.2). I then knew that a CSM in the REME is a Mechanical
Sgt. Major. He said that all their division was Fords. He was taken aside
by one of his men, and when he came back he said “Go down to the cookhouse
and get some grub whilst we fix it”. After a couple of hours we were
summoned by this very accommodating MSM who said all was OK, but drive
carefully for the next 100 miles as they had fitted a new engine. One of
his lads told me that they had lugged this spare engine all the way from
England and now they could write it off their books. (John Jones who is
President of the Pembs. REME association was amazed at this story, but I
expect Elgan as a RQMS did the same)
During the War I met men from all walks of
life. As Operator Specials we were
all hand picked after various tests from OWL Training Battalions, so
the
standard was high. When in a Field Mobile Section we had an
Intelligence Corp
Detachment with us, now some of these were all the top educated men
from the
Universities ,but when it came to common sense they were sadly
lacking. My one claim
to fame was the day we moved into our tented camp at Bishops
Waltham. I went
round every tent that evening telling them to slacken off the guy
ropes before
turning in as if it rained during the night the ropes would tighten
and cause
the centre pole to go through the roof. That night in the Blackout
all hell
let loose in the early morning the I Corps had not slackened off the
ropes of
their Bell Tent and as it had raided the canvas was on top of them.
I just couldn't help it shouting out in the dark "Bloody I Corps if
brains
were gunpowder you lot wouldn't have enough to blow your hat off"
The trouble
was that the Officers tents were close bye and my outburst was heard
by
all, but our CO thought it hilarious
I met some weird and wonderful men in those days, even learned a lot
from them |
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