大象传媒

On the 1st July 1942 we moved again, this time it was to Hall Road Blundelsands, on the mouth of the Mersey. Here we were in semi-detached houses, unfurnished of course, palliasses on the wooden floor as usual. Here we at least got some sea breezes, and it was quite a pleasant place.

The house I occupied was named Inglenook and had a Lilac tree in the garden. I can remember the lovely smell every evening, and vowed that when I had a home of my own I would have one of these trees in my garden.
Such things were my dreams made of!

While we were here we had several visits to the firing range at Altcar, where we learned to fire live ammunition with our rifle, and Bren guns, and to throw hand grenades. Quite an experience!

One day just as I had finished my dinner, I heard my name called out by the Orderly Sergeant. On answering him he informed me that my Mother and Father were at the guardroom, and he said I would be allowed to have the rest of the day off to spend with them. I spent a very pleasant day showing my parents round the area, and nearby Waterloo, it was a wonderful experience.

Life continued in the usual way.
Leaves came and went, seven days away from all the army discipline, and the opportunity to see those I loved once more.
I always tried to meet Ethel on these leaves, but it was only very seldom that I did see her. Strangely enough, I was unable to tell her then, how much she meant to me, in the very short time that we spent together. Every three or four months these leaves came round, short though they were, they were more than welcome.

The 11th November 1942 saw us on the move once more. We said good-bye to Liverpool, and found ourselves in Pembrokeshire, South Wales. Merrion Camp was in the process of being built, and we were here to put the finishing touches to it.
It was to be a training camp for the Armoured Corps and was situated on the coast, a bleak and windswept area, with towering cliffs, over which the tanks fired out to sea. The work was hard, digging out hedges, and roads, filling them in with hard core ready for the concrete, and building platforms of concrete from which the tanks practised firing their shells.
We worked with the Royal Engineers, and got on splendidly with them.
One day, we came under shellfire, when working on a sunken road; our work group suddenly became aware that shells were passing over us.
The tanks were practising and apparently had not been told of our presence. It was rather a unique experience!

One bonus we enjoyed here was the capture of rabbits, with which the area abounded, and many a supper was enjoyed after cooking them in our mess tins. I did manage to send some home by post, for my parents, to eke out their rations.

When the camp theatre was finished we were treated to a celebrity band, Henry Hall and his band were chosen to open this theatre, and all had a great time. Our company band also provided many an evening diversion there.

On the 25th May 1942 we moved a few miles down the road, to a place called Bosherston. Newton camp was a collection of nissen huts, close to the famous Lily Pools, quite a lovely place. In the cliffs just a few minutes away was a small chapel, Saint Gowens.

Whilst here I heard that Ethel had got engaged to an Airman.
I was devastated, and I must have obviously shown it, because my section Sergeant noticed my indrawn manner, and spoke to the Company Sergeant Major, who called me to the company office and asked me if everything was all right at home, even offering me leave if necessary. I told him a lie, and said I was okay.

The weeks passed, and we moved around Pembroke, and Pembroke Dock. On the 9th July 1943 we found ourselves under canvas at Saint Clears. Here we joined other units of the army on a large exercise called "Jantzen", it was a run up to the coming invasion of Europe.
It poured with rain almost every day, and I can remember never wearing a dry item of clothing at any time during this period. Most of the time we were loading Jerry cans of petrol from army trucks onto railway wagons.

When the exercise finished we returned to Pembroke, where I was told I had to attend a course on field documentation at the Pioneer Corps record offices in Bournemouth. This course was to last a week.
And so down to Bournemouth I sallied, and spent quite an interesting, and educational week. This course was from the 16th to the 24th October 1943. I and a couple of other chaps from other units were housed in a guesthouse, where a very nice landlady made us welcome.

On the 5th November 1943 we moved into Breconshire, a place called Builth Wells. Ten days later we moved down to Essex, Guys Retreat, Buckhurst Hill.
All the headquarters, officer's quarters, and mess, the company office, and the men's mess were contained in this large square building, which had been a cycling club in peace time. We were again in nearby private houses.

It was here that, whilst on guard during an air raid, I heard a dull thud just around the corner of the Headquarters building. Thinking it may be an un-exploded bomb, I rushed round to investigate, and found a large cylinder. On inspecting it closer, I saw it was a petrol tank that aircraft jettison when empty.
Oh! Heart be still.

It was here too, that the whole company had their photograph taken. I spent many Sundays off duty visiting London to hear Mass at Westminster Cathedral, and see the sights.

I think it was here that we first heard that our company was to take part in the Invasion.
I had a crash course on stretcher bearing, and we were shown maps of our beachhead, with all the place names left off, we only knew that it was somewhere on the continent.
On the 27th of April 1944 we moved to Upminster: private houses again, Deyncourt Gardens.

Here, again we worked with the engineers, finishing a large supply depot in a huge railway siding at Stratford. This was again to be a supply point for the invasion.

On the 1st of June 1944, we moved down to the New Forest, just outside of Southampton.
This area had become one of the marshalling points for the invasion troops and was a restricted area.
Here Americans, Canadians, Polish and British troops where massed.
We were under canvas, and the camp was a high security zone, and on being warned not to approach the perimeter fences, as the many guards had orders to fire on sight anyone approaching, from outside or inside the area, we complied.

Sunday the 4th of June dawned, and we were formed up and trucked to Southampton.
Here, after filing into a large warehouse, and being issued with 48 hour ration packs, and several French Francs, (So! it was to be France!) we boarded a Landing Craft Infantry, (LCI) these craft were designed to put infantry onto beaches. At the bow two ladders, one on each side of the boat were suspended on chains.

When we had settled in we were called on deck, and told that we would soon be on our way. After hearing mass on deck, and receiving a small white plastic cross from the Padre, we had the run of the craft, and had a good look round.

Later in the afternoon we heard that there had been a postponement of the invasion, there was a feeling of disappointment among the men, for it only extended the agony of waiting.
Later that night we settled down below deck, and slept.

Early on Monday morning the 5th of June, we were awakened with the usual "Wakey, wakey", and tumbled up on deck where the officers told us that we would in all probability be sailing later in the day.

About late evening, there was a sudden movement of the crew, (the Canadians), and the craft began to move out of the dock.
This is it I thought! We rounded the Isle of Wight, and moved into the channel. When dusk came we were sent below, and settled down to wait. We tucked into self-heating tins of cocoa, malted milk, and sandwiches, which did not agree with some of the chaps. The rocking and tossing of the craft made it difficult to hold it all down, and there were some groans from the unlucky ones. Fortunately I was not affected.

Sometime during the night our fleet must have rendezvous with other parts of the fleet, on awakening the following morning we were ordered out on deck and the sight that met our eyes was almost beyond description.
There were ships of all sizes as far as the eye could see, on every horizon. They were all making their way towards the coast that we could just make out in the distance. The Battleships at the rear of us with their guns firing at the coast made a deafening noise.

After a half hour or so I became aware that we were circling just about half mile offshore. The sea was choppy, and the craft rose and fell, I could see the orange and red flashes of shells exploding on land, just behind the beach, smoke drifted over the whole area.
A sailor near me called "We're going in!"
I was filled with a feeling of fear tinged with excitement.

The craft turned into the beach and sped towards it, grinding into the sand, and slewing into the beach at an angle. The metal ladders that hung from each side of the bow rattled as they dropped down onto the beach. I looked over the side that we had been lined up on, and I saw that we had about three feet of water. I was going to get wet! I remember thinking

The NCOs ordered us to quickly disembark, and we hurried down the steps, up to the waist in water.

Getting to dry land we were met by the beach master, whose job it was to ensure that the beach was cleared quickly for the following troops and vehicles.

"Get the hell off here, follow the white tapes." he shouted. To our right a tank suddenly came up out of the sea onto the beach, there was a small explosion and I thought a shell had hit it, however it was only getting rid of the waterproofing that enabled it to come ashore from the tank landing craft.

We squelched up the beach and made our way to the path that was marked by white tapes through the minefield, and arrived at a railway cutting.
A single rail track ran across the road, and a small station on our left had the sign "BERNIERS."
I've made it I thought... The time was about 7:50 am.


This was Normandy, and we were landed on "Juno Beach", we discovered later.
We were part of the British 2nd Army 1st Corps, who had been put ashore, together with the Canadians, after the Royal Marine Commandos had cleared the beach.

Assembling us together our NCOs formed us in single files each side of the road, and we made our way up to the village that lay just behind the beach. A few yards up this road we saw our first enemy, a group of German prisoners of war, some of them appeared very young, almost teenagers.
Clinging to the arm of one of the older men was a woman weeping, the guard who was escorting them bundled her away.

We eventually arrived at a "T" junction, and facing us was a small shop which appeared to be a book shop, with picture postcards on a stand just inside the door which was open, and as no one seemed to be about, I helped myself to a couple of local views.

Turning right we came to the village square. A church dominated it, its tall spire about 70 metres high. Here on the corner was a small bakery from which came the smell of new bread. I went in and offered my French francs, which the baker accepted and handed me a small brown loaf.
It was to be quite some time before I ate fresh bread again.

Once again, up the road we made our way, the sound of sporadic arms fire could be heard. We arrived at a farmyard on our right and entering it we saw a barn, inside of which was a horse. From its flank a piece of shrapnel protruded, but it did not seem to be in any pain, munching its hay.

We passed on out of the farmyard, and proceeded up a sunken road, which apparently, were a feature of the Normandy countryside. Eventually we arrived at our destination, a large field on our left. Here we were ordered to "dig in".
This entailed digging a "foxhole", which was a trench large enough to accommodate oneself, deep enough to afford protection from blast, and if necessary defend oneself from attack.
We carefully set about this task, along the edges of the field, bearing in mind that almost every field had the grim warning "Atchtung Minen".

We were later told that a German sniper had been holed up in the village, but had been dealt with after we had passed, however he had not seemed to consider us as important.

Our section commander Lieutenant Peters called us over to explain our job here.
It seemed we were attached to the 32nd C.C.S, a Casualty Clearing Station.
We were to provide guard and defence duties, and assist in the general day-to-day running of the station.

This was to include stretcher bearing, burying the dead, dismantling and assembling the station as and when it was necessary, to keep up with the front. At the bottom of the field where the C.C.S was being erected a British Bren carrier was burning, there was no sign of the crew --I hoped that they had survived.

The station consisted of a reception tent, a resuscitation tent, three operating tents, about five wards, and a mortuary tent. Within a few hours it was in operation, and receiving casualties, brought in by the field ambulances.

We set to work when the casualties arrived in fairly large numbers. It was a very unpleasant job. Some of these lads having been very badly wounded, but although on admittance some of them seemed to be hopeless cases nonetheless they were sitting up a few days later, and ready to be taken by DUWK's (Amphibian transport) down to the beach and back to the UK.

The occasional German fighter plane came over the area, but our work was uninterrupted. Shortly after the CCS was in operation, our officer ordered me, and a few other chaps, to make our way up the road.
Here in a field on our right, we found five dead men of the Royal Engineers behind a hedge. They'd been killed by a mine, an officer, had lost both his legs.
We were ordered to bury these men, and after the Padre read a short service, we buried them together in a single grave.

The work continued non-stop throughout that first day, and it was obvious that the enemy were putting up stiff resistance. When night fell, those of us who had no guard or other duties to perform were ordered to get some rest. I was one of these, and I made my way to my foxhole across the road.

Dawn on the 7th June.
I awoke stiff and sore. A mist hung low over the field, the smell of damp earth filled my nostrils. Having slept in my uniform this was also damp, (indeed it hadn't dried completely, from my wet landing the previous day!)

After eating some of my ration pack which consisted of tea and sugar cubes, boiled sweets, a thick solid block of chocolate, and a compressed lump of meat, cooked over a small tin stove and a number of solid fuel blocks, used to boil our water (obtained from a unit water wagon,) I made my way to the C.C.S.

Casualties continued to arrive in a steady stream. I was detailed to attend reception.
Here the field ambulance deposited their wounded who were examined by the medical officer. We had the job of transferring them to wherever he told us. "Resuscitation this one", "Ward this one", "Theatre this one", "Mortuary this one", and so the day went.
One of our most unpleasant tasks was burying the poor lads whose wounds had proved too serious for the Medical Officers to deal with, some of them much younger than myself.

Part Four

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