大象传媒

COMMISSIONED SERVICE

1941-2

Fairly soon after being posted to a unit from the HQ of the Green Howards in Richmond, Yorkshire, as a new junior officer I was involved in a serious dispute with my company commander. He had a notice posted up to say that "all junior officers would parade under the company sergeant-major" at a certain time and place. I refused to obey on the grounds that a commissioned officer did not parade under a warrant officer, however senior. I was threatened with a court-martial but I insisted that the correct protocol be adopted before I would conform. On this I was charged with an offence and ordered to report to the CO immediately.
The CO accepted that I was in the right and required the company commander to withdraw the charge and institute the proper procedure in his company. I was vindicated, of course, but clearly could not remain in the same company thereafter. Within a very short time I found myself posted to the colonel's HQ and put in command of the platoon responsible for its protection!

SCARBOROUGH

Our time here was spent in serious training for a new role within 11t' Armoured Division. It was a quite different existence for everyone, being housed in a town rather than scattered about in a cluster of little villages near Malton charged with "home defence"
At first the townspeople were felt to be rather unfriendly and some of the men found shopkeepers, in particular, unhelpful; it was said that they were always more ready to serve RAF lads rather than soldiers. This was surprising as Scarborough was the peace-time base of a territorial battalion of the Green Howards. Many members of that unit were prisoners of war after a fairly disastrous battle with the German army. Someone had the bright idea of putting on some sort of a show to raise money to send gifts to these men and one of our officers, who, (I guess) had had some sort of experience of this sort of thing before the war, arranged a small "tattoo". This was very successful and raised quite a lot of money by the standards of those days. Thereafter there was a marked improvement in the attitude of the town's people to our men.
The experience gained in that tattoo proved invaluable some time later when we had moved to Northern Ireland. A very elaborate and ambitious programme was laid on in Lisburn as a focal item in that town's effort in the War Savings Campaign called "Salute the Soldier Week". It was masterminded by the same officer who had organised the event in Scarborough. A copy of the programme which survives outlines an impressive list of eleven items; many of these were worked out by our own unit but there were also contributions from units of the RAF, from other Army units, members of the women's services (ATS and WAAF), cadets, a police band and a very small element from United States services.

STILL IN SCARBOROUGH

The CO decreed that everyone in the battalion should be able to ride a motorcycle and he ordered me to assist another officer in carrying out the necessary training programme. As I remember it we had about twenty machines at our disposal and just the inside of a week for each course; this would enable us to get everyone - officers, NCOs and men - who could not already ride one up to a reasonable level of competence within the time scale laid down.
We started each new group up on a Monday morning in a field with no obstacles and gradually progressed on to roads with different traffic conditions and then to a bit of fairly simple cross-country experience. On the Fridays we expected each group to drive cross-country from Scarborough to Robin Hood's Bay and back, a distance of about sixty miles in all; this involved some fairly difficult hazards and crossing at least one watercourse. We reckoned that anyone who arrived back intact as to both body and machine could be described as competent! Saturday mornings were spent in thoroughly cleaning and maintaining the machines ready for the next intake the following week.
On one of the Friday cross-country expeditions some of the students went slightly off course and found themselves in a field with two very ferocious-looking bulls. They drove to the gate ahead of the bulls and got over it just in time! However they had to leave their bikes, one or two with their engines still running. The bulls were infuriated and stamped in rage nearby, leaving us with the problem of recovering the bikes.
Eventually I solved the problem by sending some of the party off on foot, walking on the safe side of the fence away from the gate; this enticed the bulls away from the bikes. When we judged the bulls were far enough away, we got the bikes out one by one, one soldier "manning" the gate and another dashing in and wheeling the bike out as quickly as he could.
Mission accomplished! But it was scary. As a post-script I reckon I must have taught over 500 men to ride a motorcycle, yet I have never held a civilian driving licence allowing me to take one on the road!

WILTSHIRE

Later the whole unit was converted from infantrymen to a mechanised unit and we were sent to Trowbridge as members of the Royal Armoured Corps. There we had to learn a new role altogether. Humber, then Daimler, armoured cars and scout cars were collected and we had to learn how to handle them, to work together in small groups of two or three cars (a troop) as we practised various procedures in training for possible eventualities in action. Much of this was quite good fun, driving around in pleasant countryside and learning to map-read as we drove, sometimes at speed. When we had become reasonably proficient at some of these routines and learnt how to maintain radio contact at different levels of command, my squadron commander decided we should learn to do it all at night.
The first occasion was ordered for an evening on what happened to be my birthday. We were to drive in daylight to a village about 30 miles away, to wait there until it was fully dark and then drive "home". Before we set off I gathered my chaps together and gave them their orders fairly formally. I then promised to buy them all a drink in
the village pub while we waited for darkness to fall. I clearly warned them of the potency of the local Somerset cider and advised them not to have any more than my initial round.
Being streetwise (as we would say now), older and more experienced than I but only familiar with the bottled cider available in the pubs they frequented at home, they thought I was being ridiculous and did not follow my advice. On the way back the drivers managed to get all `my' vehicles stuck in a ditch or similar obstruction. Because the transmission was through the fluid flywheel characteristic of all Daimler cars, it was impossible to drive them out, forwards or backwards, so recovery vehicles had to be summoned by radio! Bed and sleep that night was much later than planned but this green young officer had earned a bit of respect? Fortunately, at the de卢briefing the following morning, my superior took a very indulgent view of the whole episode.
A particularly hairy experience I had during this training was on a course at Instow, North Devon. Several of us (officers, crews, vehicles) were sent for training in "waterproofing" our vehicles so that they could be driven off landing craft into shallow water and so into a beachhead. Somehow the Navy got things wrong when our test came. When the landing-craft stopped and lowered its ramps, we drove off - and dropped some 3-4 feet before hitting the bottom. In fact the vehicles virtually floated helplessly and, as each wave came, they were lifted further out to sea.
As the whole process was a learning/experimental exercise in all departments there was a very adequate supply of recovery vehicles awaiting us on the beach. Their crews sprang into action and, with great difficulty and resourcefulness, managed to fix a towline onto each of our heavy armoured vehicles and haul them ashore. A very narrow escape from drowning for all of us; no lives lost but several vehicles were seriously damaged by seawater and could not be driven away.

1943-44

A further change for the regiment came towards the end of 1943 when we travelled, with our armoured vehicles, by train from Wiltshire to Scotland and then by ferry from Stranraer to Northern Ireland. It was a strange experience there; we were clearly in a bit of a backwater while it was obvious that forces on the mainland were being prepared to invade Europe.
The barracks we were in were large and there were other units: a small ATS unit, often some American troops, as well as other British soldiers. The social round was continuous and largely enjoyable. Work was routine and, as I remember it, not very demanding; we had done our training and just waited.
Apart from "Salute the Soldier Week" (see above p.7) there were two incidents worth recording: -
i) before we went we were strongly warned about the IRA and had to adopt careful security measures with our arms (personal and vehicular) and had to be sure never to go out into the town on one's own. Against that background we were surprised to find the local people in Ballymena extremely hospitable, and during the 6-7 months I was there, absolutely no `incident' occurred except the following. An RAF plane had crashed on a nearby mountain and I was deputed to take a small detachment to the site to guard it until all "important" elements had been removed. We lodged in a small, very primitive, farmstead at the foot; the sentries, and their reliefs, had a stiff climb up to the site. I had myself to go up there frequently at irregular intervals through each 24 hours to see that all was well. One night I had a message from the sentries that they had arrested some men and would I go up immediately. Of course we all thought they would prove to be members of the IRA after the guns and ammunition on the plane, but they turned out to be local fishermen hoping to find some sheepskin flying jackets on board!
ii) prior to and after the invasion of NW Europe, American forces set up a huge transit camp for their troops who had crossed the Atlantic and were on their way to France. They had had no experience of waterproofing vehicles to be able to drive off landing craft through seawater onto the shore (see above p.9). Two of us who had been thoroughly trained in this technique were sent to this camp to advise the American troops and, in particular, to check their work on every vehicle before they went on. This was a tricky assignment as neither of us had had any experience with their vehicles and their technical sergeants were formidable chaps who scorned our amateurish knowledge. In this matter however we had the upper hand; we did know about waterproofing, we had done it successfully on our own vehicles and had been sent on a crash course to familiarise ourselves with just a few vital places on theirs, which needed specially careful attention, such as a small `breather' hole on a gearbox or differential. Even if these danger spots were the extent of our knowledge it was often more than their men knew. In any case we had the ultimate authority because no vehicle was allowed to proceed until we had checked and approved the work done; clearly our authority derived from a very senior source.
The permanent staff of this camp was American and, because most of their duties were manual and somewhat menial, a high proportion of them were coloured soldiers. This was my first experience of `racism' and I and my English colleague were both taken aback at the way the (mainly) white soldiers passing through treated the coloured ones - often abruptly and with disdain. I do not think we were anything special in that regard and perhaps did no better than a "thank you" when food was produced or whatever. It is true that we had the advantage of being "permanent" and most of the others they served in various capacities were transient and perhaps a bit edgy at what was ahead of them. It was soon noticeable that, if there were any second helpings on offer or similar perks going, they tended to come our way and not to their own chaps. This experience made a profound impression on me (see below at p.28).

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