大象传媒

The Battle of Alamein took place on the 23rd October 1942, which is now recognised as the turning point in the war, at least as far as we were concerned, being our first major victory against the Germans.

We were lined up to support the 51st Highland Division. We carried them up to the starting positions. On the back of the tank were some of the Scottish soldiers. I felt so sorry for them, I handed them my bottle of rum ration and I didn鈥檛 get any back I can tell you. The attack was to commence at 10pm but before that the artillery barrage was to last 20 minutes. It was the largest ever to that date, and the sky was lit as far as one could see by the gun flashes and the very earth seemed to vibrate. The din was tremendous. We moved off following the line ordered, when in the gloom, I noticed we were dragging a mile or two of barbed wire with us and found ourselves in a minefield. Whether it was a dummy minefield or not, we had no way of knowing. I shall never know whether it was or not, but the only thing I could think of was not to risk any new ground, so I had the driver reverse in our own tracks for a few feet, then I jumped down actually on to the track marks, to make sure I didn鈥檛 stand on any mines. I used wire cutters to free the wire, then walked in the tracks guiding the driver as he reversed out of the danger zone.

Only two further instances stick in my memory. On the second day, one of the tank tracks was blown off and in those days the track segments were made of solid steel, with steel pins securing the links. So rather than stay there like a sitting duck, I decided with the help of my crew of course, to remove the damaged section and run the track over the driving sprockets, carry it over the small idler wheels and under the road wheels then hammered in the pins to join it up. Thankfully, it worked and I was able to crawl away to safety at about 3 mph but at least we got back safely.

About the fourth day of the battle, we had been withdrawn to support positions for a rest. The ground was a bit stony, so I decided to sleep on the toolbox. Suddenly, there was a big bang and I found myself on the ground with a box of Verey lights which had been on the back of the turret, burning away like Guy Fawkes night, making us a lovely target. I dived at the turret for a fire extinguisher, which was the old Pyrex hand pump and handed it over to the gunner 鈥淒o you know how to use it?鈥� I asked. 鈥淥h yes鈥� he said, and promptly squirted in an experimental sort of way into my face, almost choking me but at least we did get the fire out.

The end of the battle came suddenly with the collapse of the Italian/German front and a headlong retreat. Our task now was to catch the retreating army. Eventually they did make a stand on what was known as the Mareth Line. My unit was to attack and force a crossing over the Wadi Zigzaou which was a sort of dry river bed 鈥� well it usually is dry but at that time of the year it was shallow water. It was just my luck we had to keep within markers laid by the Sappers which was about the width of a 鈥楥鈥� road. A number of tanks had gone before me and it seems they dug deeper into the mud each time. Anyway, my tank stuck in the mud in the dark, as our attacks usually were. The rest of the Regiment had to wait for a new crossing. My orders were to remain with the tank and crew and act as a pillbox if any targets showed up, at least until I could get hauled away at daylight. Actually, I may have been lucky as the Troop Officer got badly wounded and we had a few other casualties. In daylight of course we would attract a few shells, and we knew there were a number of snipers about. Anyway, to brew up our tea, we had dug a slit trench under the river bank, and during a quiet spell I had nipped out with the primus stove which I placed at the edge of the trench. I had just made a lovely brew, when the primus stove seemed to jump off the ledge and hit me right in the face. On examination of the stove, I found a nice neat bullet hole in the stove casing. Fortunately, the heavy cast iron ring in the centre had deflected the bullet. The sniper must obviously have been waiting for me to show myself.

That was my last action in Libya and Tunis, my Regiment was then withdrawn to a place called Sousse, where we were re-equipped with the new American Sherman Tank. We had to get used to them fairly quickly and ready for the next operation, which as it turned out, was the invasion of Sicily. At that time it was the largest sea borne invasion of the war and the landing ships carrying tanks were used for the first time. These ships had the bow doors swing open just like the modern car ferry. The tanks went down the ramp and into the sea. Our section of beach was quite steep so we had to have a sort of chimney arrangement over the engine air intakes to stop the seawater from getting in with a sort of wire and pulley arrangement to the tank turret which was pulled up on landing when we got to the beach, to discard the chimney. There was little opposition on our particular beach and as we pushed inland, the population seemed quite pleased to see us. However, there was some action. My troop of 3 tanks were heading the advance, fairly well ahead of the main body and I was last of the three and on the main road, pushing along as fast as we could, when I saw heavy fire and tracers heading in the direction of the leading two tanks. I actually stopped in the road and fired the machine guns and a shell or two where I thought the fire was coming from, when the machine gun jammed. I had a few choice words to the gunner to please clear the stoppage, when suddenly I was watching hordes of Italians come running from all over the place. It is impossible for a tank crew to sop and take prisoners but I couldn鈥檛 leave them loose with all the arms lying about. I spotted an Italian officer and climbed out with a submachine gun under my arm, trying to look confident even though the tank guns were still jammed. I got them to disarm by the roadside using signals and scowls, and sort of dark threats and the officer handed me his Barate automatic, which was a bit different from being handed a sword. I hoped to keep this as a souvenir but I lost that later as you can imagine. I got them lined up on the road and fortunately a patrol of infantry arrived. I handed them over and hared off as fast as I could after the rest of my troop, who as it turned out, were blissfully unaware of what had happened and were thinking my crew were lost or broken down.

For the next day or two, we had no further action, we pushed on towards Messina, as fast as we could to prevent the Germans from getting really dug in to defence positions. I felt more nervous of the civilian population as we passed through villages, cheering us along and climbing on our tanks trying to kiss us and handing us gifts of food.

On the third day after landing, we were ahead as usual, when our troop officer鈥檚 tank as fired on and damaged. As we were trained to do, we automatically deployed hull-down position that is with the lower part of the tank hidden behind the rise, with only the top turret showing over the ridge, complete with the tank commanders of course. I located the tracked gun over a dray stone wall so proceeded to demolish the wall with shellfire. Soon I saw soldiers trying to escape on foot in shelter of the wall. If they had surrendered, they would have been alright, but we could not allow trained tank crews to go free, so I blew a hole in the wall slightly in front of them and raked it with machine gun fire. When we moved forward, I saw several bodies and that was the only time, thank god, when I knew I was responsible for some deaths. If I had not done something, they may have manned another tank and killed some of our lot. You cannot have too much sentiment in the war but my thoughts at the time were for the mothers and wives of those dead. The next thing was the Troop Officer took over my tank and crew and left me with his damaged one. I waited for the recovery vehicle to pick up a replacement tank. I didn鈥檛 mind being left but I was most annoyed that he took my crew. Fortunately, after a few hours a recovery vehicle came along with a replacement tank, in charge of a Junior NCO. It was promptly taken over by me and I took off after my unit. I managed to catch up just before dark and I think my crew were just as pleased to see me as I was to see them. We knew each other so well and had confidence in the others. I remember my driver speaking to me on the intercom during a slightly hairy moment 鈥淚鈥檓 glad to have you up there Bill, your voice is as steady as if we鈥檙e on exercise. If it wasn鈥檛 for you, I think I鈥檇 be filling my pants鈥� or words to that effect.

All went well until the 20th July, when we had to cross a large open area, which had been used as a bomber base. My Troop was leading again, as usual. We were ordered forward and told to push on, when I saw some movement about one mile away. Looking through my glasses I saw a German SP75, that鈥檚 a 75mm self propelled gun on tracks, moving into cover on our flanks. I reported this to my Commander and after a slight hesitation, we were ordered to carry on as fast as we could regardless. I was apparently the only one to spot it and fired a couple of shells, which made it pull out of sight 鈥� presumably I didn鈥檛 hit it. But then we were among the infantry positions, with machine gun and mortars flying about and we had to keep our eyes open. The next thing I knew, all three tanks of my Troop were hit, and mine started to burn. I knew I had to get out quickly and let out the gunner and the loader, as my seat was in the turret exit. In my haste, I forgot all about my headphones being plugged in and nearly pulled my head off before the plug came away. However, the others got out and so did the machine gunner in the front. Unfortunately, my driver must have been killed or so badly hurt that he could not open his hatch, so I jumped up on the front of the tank and pulled as hard as I could but it just have been jammed or locked. The Germans started machine gunning and the bullets started rattling around the tanks, so I had to leave it, and then found my gunner on the ground in a bad state with severe leg wounds and his clothes were smouldering. He was calling my name over and over, and without thinking I started pulling away the burning clothes. Strangely, I felt no pain at the time. To attend to him I had to kneel and Jerry thought fit to open fire again, and I was hit in the left shoulder and through the body. I only felt the exit wound, like a thump of a hammer 鈥� a sledgehammer. I thought I鈥檇 been shot through the lungs and lay for a few second, expecting blood, when my Troop Officer came along and said he would take over tending to my gunner, a young fellow named Arkwright. I started crawling along with one arm to a shell or bomb crater, where another of my crew was lying. Suddenly the tank blew up, one or two bits scraped alone my arm, but when I looked around, my Officer lay flat out and motionless, I presumed dead. I remembered thinking that should have been me. I seem to have a charmed life, so many things have happened which turned out to be for my good. I managed to join the last member of my crew, who had been slightly wounded and we tried to bandage each other with field dressings. Now I have forgotten to mention the other survivor decided to try to get back to get some action to recover us. I heard later that although he got back he was in a bad way. He was able to say what happened but sadly died shortly after. Perhaps I should mention here a sort of spiritual experience I had while I was lying there, just after being wounded and in a sort of haze with shock, I was looking around thinking what a beautiful world this was with the sun shining, it was quite peaceful. I felt spiritually peaceful and I was wondering when the Lord was going to come and take me away. I was thinking of my wife and my mother and my daughter, wondering what they would do, how they would get on. It was amazing how peaceful I was not being afraid of dying, yet I suppose I might have been if I had been fully conscious.

In Bill Williams鈥檚 War 3, I give an account of my experiences as a PoW and of my repatriation.

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