大象传媒

On the 15th May, at the age of twenty,I,Geoffrey Waterson, joined the 56th Training Regiment of the Royal Armoured Corps at Tidworth on Salisbury

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Plain, resplendent in a blue West of England cloth sports jacket with red check markings and grey flannels. These were soon handed in for khaki battle dress and denims.
We were housed in Hore-Belisha barracks~ named after the War Minister under whose administration the blocks were erected in 1939 for the new intakes when conscription was introduced for twenty year olds after the Munich crisis of 1938. These barracks were very good for their day, with bunks in tiers of two and shower baths. They were also two-storied. This feature was useful at Saturday morning kit inspections. People deficient in items of kit could get them loaned down or up via the windows, with judicious timing, when inspecting officers were on the stairs.
It was quite cold for May and greatcoats were needed at early morning rollcall. There were two squads - one for twenty year olds and the other for thirty year olds.
After four weeks we were transferred to Catterick in Yorkshire. The weather immediately turned very warm and we sweltered in full marching order from Richmond station to the camp. Here the barracks were huts dating from the First World War.
After basic training, Royal Armoured Corps recruits were trained in driving, gunnery and wireless operating. Equipment was very scarce. Driving instruction was on 3 ton lorries or Bren gun carriers. The only tanks around were two ancient medium tanks dating from the 1920s.
;( With a great deal of preparation, including taking out and cleaning all the plugs, one medium tank could be persuaded to start sometimes. It was capable of a few hundred yards. Once it stopped the performance had to be repeated before starting up again as the plugs would have oiled up.

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Gunnery training provided one bright interlude. One of the older recruits, Bill Melody from Blackburn, was of stout build and was sometimes made the butt of the instructors. On this occasion the lance corporal, full of himself, started off, "Well, this is the Besa machine gun, Melody. How much do you think it weighs?". Bill gave it a casual glance and replied, 'fOne hundred and twenty-seven pounds". He was accurate to within ~lb - collapse of lance corporal's proposed witticism. He didn't know that in civilian life Bill was a successful scrap metal dealer whose experience included estimating most bits of metal to the nearest pound. Another memory is of Bill looking wistfully round the
back of a three tonner bound for some training exercise - "Good truck
this. Shame it isn't being put to better use." Bill could visualise it full of a nice profitable load of scrap iron.
During our time at Catterick, the non-commissioned officers were augmented by some survivors of a troopship torpedoed on the way back from India. Lance sergeant Fardoe and Corporal Soffe were two still young in years but old in army experience. They fetched up at Catterick with most of their kit lost at sea. Ordered to get on parade at once there was no questioning of the command by reference to their scanty possessions. They simply turned out in khaki drill and topee pith helmets. The Regimental Sergeant Major blasted them off the parade ground, then took them for a drink later. The three had served together in India before the war.
During the long, hot summer of 1941 large fires broke out on the moors. We assisted in putting them out. One memory is of Len Dews who 'ticked' (grumbled) long and loud throughout the episode. A week or so later he was promoted lance corporal - most of us thought it

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was an act of defence by the authorities.
At the end of our training, Don Buckfield, a lad from Lee in south London, and myself were offered courses to become wireless operator instructors at Catterick. This did not suit us at all. Our aim was to get into a service unit and see some action. Tank battles were
ebbing and flowing across the desert in North Africa west of Egypt. We had no illusions about war but did not see ourselves as training unit instructors. The Regimental Sergeant Major pointed out that we would
see action soon enough before the war was over and would lose nothing by acquiring a stripe or two before being posted to qn active service unit. It was very sound advice but, of course, we did not take it. The squad of thirty year olds, mostly married, could not get on instructor training courses fast enough. In retrospect, one can see what Napoleon meant by his dictum that men past thirty do not make good soldiers.
In December 1941 Don and I found ourselves posted to the 47th Battalion of the Royal Tank Regiment then based at Shoreham-on-Sea as part of the south coast defences. This battalion originated from an Oldham territorial unit and was still commanded by a cotton magnate
known as 'Shoddy Ned'. Accommodation was quite good, the troops having billets in private houses. Some civilians still remained though many had been evacuated. Further along the coast the Canadians were in strength around Brighton.
Early in January 1942 Don Buckfield, myself and others were
moved to Adur Lodge in Shoreham. This meant a mile walk each way to the cookhouse for meals three times a day. Nevertheless, life still remained civilised. A typical Saturday was the qfternoon spent in Hove baths and the evening at a cinema.

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On 19th January, my 21st birthday, I set off on leave. The weather was very snowy and for some reason the train came to a halt a mile or so out of Crewe. After a very long wait the passengers were
advised to get out and walk into Crewe station. Many of them were civil servants returning to Llandudno, a number of departments having been
evacuated there for the duration of the war. It was like the retreat from Moscow, this long line of civilians and servicemen straggling
through the snow and grumbling as only civil and military services can. From Stafford to Crewe took nine hours. The Women's Voluntary Service
had tea and refreshments available in the early hours of the morning on the platforms at Crewe. Eventually I reached home in Waterfoot at 5 0' clock in the afternoon of the 20th.
Uncle John, farming at Wheathead, was most indignant about a proposed new milk scheme. Farmers were to take all their milk in and
receive enough back for children and special cases plus skimmed milk for adults. Rossendale farmers were refusing to fill up forms as a matter of course.
There was considerable discussion about the appointment of
Dr~ Else Anna d'Amian, a German Jewess who had left Germany in 1934, as assistant Medical Officer of Health for Rossendale.
On returning from leave we had a lecture by a Commando officer on the Vagso raid, an attack on German-occupied Norway. One good joke
was about film of the operation showing the use or misuse of 3'1 mortar. The mortar school were annoyed that the Commandos had not done things according to the training manual.
There was also a demonstration of a Bangalore torpedo which was an old bit of pipe stuffed with T.N.T.

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We had a talk by an Austrian, Dr. Berger, on his experiences in Dachau and Buchenwald concentration camps.
In February 1942 Don arid I had a weekend in Lee at Don's home. we had Sunday lunchtime drinks with Don's father and his fellow Home Guards in the New Tiger's Head.
During this month of February1942, the crack French liner, 'Normandie', caught fire. We also got the news that Singapore had been taken by the Japanese who took 100,000 prisoners.
Not least because of its unexpectedness, the loss of Singapore was very depressing at the time. Over forty years later on a visit to Singapore I found that the disaster was even worse than it seemed in 1942.
General Percival, the British Commander, was a staff officer
in 1937 and had written a paper setting out how Singapore could be taken
by approach from Malaya. Only the Japanese seem to have paid any attention.
The general state of preparation was shown by the first Japanese air raid on Singapore soon after the Pearl Harbor attack on the
,
American fleet in December 1941. The lights of Singapore were not
blacked out and the master key to switch them off was held by the chief of the electricity concern. He had gone to the cinema and could not be found.
The Governor refused to allow any attempt to re-dep1oy the seaward facing defences because 'it would be bad for the morale of the troops' although the Japanese were already in Malaya.
On a par with this was the lecture given to Australian troops en route to Singapore. They were told that the Japanese were poor

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soldiers being men of small physique and poor eyesight.
Expectations that the Japanese would be delayed by jungle
fighting in Malaya proved faulty. They cycled down the east coast road
in three days. On 15th February 1942, 100,000 British and Allied troops surrended to just over 30,000 Japanese. General Percival's request to
surrender the next day was rejected, instant surrender was demanded and obtained. In fact, the Japanese general was concerned about his supp lies which were so low that sustaining even one day's fighting was in doubt. His bluff worked.
The British, as the occupying colonial power, were not greatly loved by the Chinese and Malay inhabitants. The Japanese occupation did not show any imagination though. Many thousands of Chinese 'disappeared\ during their three year rule. Over forty years later the streets of Singapore are full of Japanese cars but the small number of Japanese business people resident keep a very low profile.
Back in Shoreham, some light relief was provided by Trooper
McBride and another man getting drunk in Brighton and pushing each other in turn back to billets in a pram.
In March 1942 I was sent on 28 days agricultural leave on the
application of Uncle John. It made a change from the rather boring day-time army routine training and fatigues. John had a horse named Alice, one year younger than me, which had been foaled, on the farm and was a great character. True to form during my month, she walked up to
the back of another milk float and ate three loaves. I was much amused by a story from another uncle, Harry Waterson, whose car had had a
puncture in Rochdale late at night. (There was still a little petrol
for the few cars on the road.) The car slipped off the jack. Two drunk

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men came along and helped him. Harry wa sweating in case he was recognised by them. They told him all about a motorist (Harry himself) who had knocked them down and put them in hospital. They were two well-known brothers who had staggered into the road suddenly in the blackout.
Harry had been unable to avoid them and had been most upset. The police, however, implied that he had done a public service in putting the
brothers out of action even if only for a short period. The brothers
now told him that they had been in hospital again since the motorist put them there - this time along with a policeman with whom they had disagreed.
After a month's farming, varying from snow clearing to ploughing, manure spreading and harrowing, it was back to Shoreham to find
everyone going on embarkation leave. One night the guard duty was spent changing lorry tyres to sand type. One or two ty~es were very stubborn
and needed a machine, then a rarity, to shift them. Typical of the 47th.t after working all night some of us were put on cook-house fatigue the
following morning. Sergeant Ashley, who had been in charge of the tyre operation, was very annoyed when he discovered this and had us taken
off. He was one of the few N.C.O.s or officers of any description in
the 47th who was worth his salt. The Regimental Sergeant Major believed in a reign of terror to establish what he called discipline. As will be seen, far from making his troops more frightened of their officers than of the enemy, he himself became very nervous of his own men.
After returning from fourteen day's embarkation leave, the regiment was inspected by King George VI on 1st May 1942. By the
7th we were aboard the Cunard-White Star 'Scythia' at Liverpool. We
sailed on the 10th and there was considerable rocking and rolling. AI-

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though all right in the swaying hammock, I felt a little queasy on
stepping down to the deck. This uneasiness was not helped by greasy
sausages but the feeling soon disappeared up on deck after breakfast.
In mid-Atlantic the ship broke down and the rest of the convoy sailed on. It was a strange sensation. We,were motionless and a
sitting duck for any U-boat but no one was bothered. There were ironic cheers when our regimental fitters were sent down to the engine room to
assist in the repairs. It seemed a last resort but eventually we limped on to Freetown by the 22nd and sailed again on the 26th. Soon there were plenty of flying fish in evidence. Crossing the equator on the
28th, we passed Saint Helena on the 30th and duly arrived in Capetown.
Although troop convoys were no novelty to Capetown and the 2nd Australian Division had left their mark only a month or two earlier, we
had a very warm welcome. People queued in their cars at the dockside to invite troops to their homes as we came off on shore leave. A very
different attitude from the English middle class on the Sussex coast. Don and I were invited to dinner by Mr Vaughan who was manager of beef herds up country for Oxo. We also found time to climb the
3501 feet of Table Mountain. Taking bananas back on board for breakfast the following morning was a great luxury. Such fruit was absent from
war time Britain. The Vaughans took the trouble to write to our parents and also, many months later, sent a parcel of fruit to Don for the two of us. It reached him with his new unit in Syria - as I was by then
with my new unit in Tunis I was unable to enjoy my share of the parcel. The welcome we got from English speaking South Africans remains in the memory, despite apartheid.
On the 15th June the 'Scythia' sailed from Capetown but had to

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put into Port Elizabeth. Here we spent some days before being transferred to the 'Nieuw Amsterdam', a very modern Dutch liner. At Port Elizabeth the hospitality was again remarkable. We were entertained by the Matthews family.
Japanese submarines were said to be operating off the coast of East Africa but the 'Nieuw Amsterdam' was considered fast enough to sail without convoy. The dining room was air-conditioned and it was very welcome relief from the heat to go down for a meal. We were four to a cabin with hot and cold air vents laid on to each bunk. A novel luxury then. Going aboard by the main gangway was impressive. The first thing seen was a huge painting of Rotterdam being dive bombed by Stukas and Junkers 88s. Underneath was the stark inscription "Remember Rotterdam".
On the 9th July 1942 we landed at Port Tewfik and travelled by rail and road to Quassassin near Ismalia in Egypt. Arriving late after dark we were put into tents without attempting to sort everything out until morning. There was a Naafi which most people visited for supper. Coming out into a very dark night and unfamiliar surroundings I blundered into the wrong tent next door. It turned out to be occupied by the Regimental Sergeant Major and the Squadron Sergeant Majors. The R. S.M. quavered "Who's that? Who's there?" He thought someone had come to give him what he richly deserved. It took some time for a S.S.M. to reassure him. I was too surprised to do more than to ask the S.S.M. what was the matter with him (the R.S.M.).
For the first fortnight in Egypt we had to wear topees (pith helmets) to avoid sunstroke. After that we reverted to the black berets of the tank corps. Apart from the heat, the main discomfort was from the flies which were everywhere. We had not yet reached the stage of
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