大象传媒

Most of my wartime memories took place whilst i was in the army. It is hardly surprising because i was called up on Oct. 16th 1939, just one month after it was declared. Before that, we had what was known as the false war, for about a year when we didn't know if we would declare war or not. During that time patriotic fervour had been whipped up to such an extent that most of the adolescent young men and not a few of the women also were only too willing to give their all for King and Country. I said adolescent because,in those days,childhood lasted a long time and adolescence in a lot of cases lingered into the late teens.
We all too soon had a rude awakening in the forces and after a month or so those adolescents compared with what was to come later. Thankfully most of the country had about a year of what was known as the phoney war first.
Our glorious patriotic gesture of having condescended to don the uniform took a double somersault backward at the reality, when we had a shot fired against us in anger.
No matter though about the truly horrible events that took place, the human mind is such, that we retain memories of the good times, more vivid than the bad times which is just as well or that fast growing industry called counselling would have been in overdrive and unable to cope, if there had been such a body in those days.
Teamwork was the key to everything and welding all these different personalities into a unit that could be effective in whatever task they had to do, meant we had to have faith and depend on one another, so is it any wonder that we, for the most part, got on well with each other collectively, and also made personal friends with one or two in particular. Friendships which carried us through in good times and bad and stood the test of time. Naturally there were a lot of lads with the same surnames, and funny and sometimes weird nicknames were given. We had several Smith's - one we called Smiddy, one Smidge and one Spud on account of his aversion to spud bashing but, more likely, his absolute passion for second helpings of them when cooked.
I remember, just top side of Cassino, when he and i shared a muddy ditch in the middle of nowhere (without a weapon between us because we had been on a wire party) thinking a couple of Gerries were approaching and it turned out to be two officers from the far north of the British Isles talking loudly in broad Scots. We didn't say hello, in fact neither of us said a word until they were out of sight and hearing, then what was said was not very polite.
Another time, still in Italy, we were dispersed for the night in an Olive field next to a cemetery. One of the lads had shown a lively interest in the wonderful angels and crosses of the headstones until it was time to unwrap our ground sheets and try and get some kip. It was a particularly noisy night with artillery and planes etc. Next morning, we were due to move out, when we found this lad had not put in an appearance. A couple of us were sent to find him, thinking he would be admiring the gravestones again, but we came across him still on his groundsheet with his gas cape tucked around him, oblivious to the fact that he was on the edge of a bomb crater. Fearing the worse we shook him and, to our relief, he yawned and woke up. His first words on seeing the crater was "it wasn't there last night. I know it was a noisy night but this is going a bit too far" We all thought it was a certainty that he had a guardian angel and nothing could touch him after that close shave. Yes, he came through it all unscathed to get demobbed, like a lot more of us lucky old so and so's. Many though didn't.
At Anzio it was very muddy and of necessity, even in the rest area, we had to have personal foxholes. The construction was the same as digging a grave with a deeper pit at the end for drainage. Contrary to orders one of the Smith's, Smidge, didn't do a drainage pit at the foot but another entrance or exit. I should tell you that we topped these foxholes with good solid doors that had been brought from the extensively bombed Anzio. The rest area was a mile or so away for obvious reasons so, fetching them was a hair raising experience in itself, but that's a different story. Having put the door on top, we then put the trench spoils on top of that making a sort of personal Anderson shelter. (Two men doubling up was frowned on in those days) We were busy during the day, doing what troops do when not actually in action and contriving to keep dry every time we had a flash flood, which was akin to a very heavy, but thankfully short thunderstorm. They came without warning - one minute the sun shone enough to scorch the eyeballs and the next it was simply chocing it down, the heavens opened. Once, at one of these times so did the Gerry planes on low flying machine gun attack. The cry went up "Go to ground," and we all dived in our fox holes which gave us good protection. When it was all clear Smidge came out of his dripping wet - he had been laying in about six inches of rainwater! Needless to say another new foxhole with drainage pit had to be dug by him before nightfall. Smidge's story was that his first job was down the mines which didn't last long because he was terrified of being buried alive, hence the two entrances or exits.
We really did have some great times and a good laugh now and then.
Incidently, the other Smith called Smiddy was the sort of person who could find humour in anything and everything. Sometimes the banter was a bit cruel but then it was cruel times we lived in. We were very willing to be amused, and during any hardship, it made life so much more bearable. If there is one person amongst any gathering who can do that, then be eternally grateful, it is a gift i have always admired but never been able to do.
I suppose the war let me see a good part of the planet. I can recall easily 12 countries we visited and there is probably more, without a single passport amongst the lot of us. We had other things on our minds though, not sightseeing. The one and only time i did that was in Rome. To sum up though, despite the good times and friends we made, you might agree with the view that we could very well have done without it. Free passports cost too much, it's like in a shoe shop confronted by the sign, But one get one free.

漏 Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.