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Joining the Territorials

During the years between 1920-1939, Britain was nearly bankrupt, with high unemployment. All the fighting services, (with the exception of the Navy,) had been run down. The Tank, which we had built and used to good effect during the First World War, was thought 鈥� by the Higher Command 鈥� as not worth further development, whereas Hitler鈥檚 Generals, Guderin and Rommel, realised their potential and built up Panzer Divisions of Tanks and supporting troops 鈥淧anzer Grenadiers鈥�. They were unstoppable.

So, we talked about the possible event of war and how such an event would affect us. We discussed the Territorial Army and the fact that, if one joined, it would only mean a bit of training at weekends, attending a 14-day camp once a year and being paid 拢10 a year (a good amount in those days.) If war came I would be in a unit of my choice. In May 1939 I became a Driver, T/72787 in 145 Brigade, 48th South Midland Division, and Royal Army Service Corps 鈥淪upply Company鈥�. 144 Brigade (Ammunition) and 143 Brigade (Petrol) were based at the same barracks.

First Camp on Salisbury Plain

I attended my first camp (1939) at Larkfield, Bulford, on Salisbury Plains, under canvas with kit inspections, parades, lectures, map-reading etc. It was not my idea of a holiday 鈥� but we were not there to enjoy ourselves. Although my years with the Boys Brigade should have prepared me for life under canvas, it was not to be compared with Army style.

I cannot remember now the composition of the 48th Division, Infantry Regiments were the Royal Warwicks, the Worcesters, I believe the Ox/Bucks and I am sure about the Glosters (Gloucestershire), with their supporting tanks and armour, etc.

I had joined the RASC, because the Barracks were near my home, and I did not see myself as an Infantryman, and I would rather drive or be driven to wherever we would be needed. My uniform and greatcoat were not exactly a good fit, and we certainly did not look as though we would prove much of a threat to the German Troops. However, our spirits were high and the general feeling was 鈥渓et鈥檚 get at them鈥� if war comes. (We did not know then how badly off we were for guns, tanks, planes, etc.)

When camp finished, I returned to the office to relate my experiences. We had a good laugh and I stated that I would try and get away with one week only the next year.

Call Up

The shock was sudden; on Friday of that same week news came through our control room that all Reservists and Territorials were to report to barracks on September Ist. It being Friday afternoon I said cheerio to my office colleagues and rang Frieda at her office to come straight to my home so that we could say goodbye.

At home I changed into my uniform, packed my kitbag, had a good meal with the family and after fond farewells and requests to be careful, reported to the Harborne Barracks at 9 p.m. We were issued with blankets and taken to Harborne Baths which had been drained of water and boarded over, so that we could sleep there.

On Sunday 3rd September 1939, we were paraded, told that war had been declared with Germany, and we were now subject to the discipline and penalties of war service.

We had a lot more drill, route marches, rifle and bayonet practice. It was a glorious summer and marching in full kit, sometimes wearing your gas mask, made the sweat pour off you. Once we were allowed to break ranks outside a 鈥減ub鈥�; I drank a pint of beer straight away. During this period, vehicles of all sorts, trucks, vans, coaches, were being commandeered.

After three weeks we were warned that we would be moving away, and half the Company would have a day鈥檚 leave that day, (Saturday,) the other half the next day, (Sunday;) being in barracks Saturday, my day off would be Sunday. A friend of mine said that he would tell my family and they would get in touch with Frieda, (neither family had a telephone,) so we could have a get-together. However, the Army thought differently; at 5 a.m. Sunday my room was awakened to be told that we were the Advance Party, and to get our kit packed and parade for moving at 7 a.m. No-one was interested in our complaint that it was our day off; we were not individuals anymore, just army numbers. Again I had to hope that one of my friends, who was not in the Advance Party, would be able to let my family know that I had gone.

First billet at Froxfield

At one o鈥檆lock that Sunday afternoon I was in our first billet at Froxfield, near Hungerford. It was a horseracing stable, and it was our job to clean out the stables of straw and manure, so that each box became a home for six soldiers. Within the next few days the whole of the 516 Supply Corps arrived (145 Brigade). Many of the vehicles had dents in them when they arrived, many drivers not being as competent as they had claimed.

During the next few days I travelled around with a driver taking supplies. Once when we were out, it had been raining, and our truck, (a small Ford,) skidded into the back of a brick wagon, which we had been trying to overtake. My side wing crumbled in but very fortunately my legs were not trapped or injured. Needless to say we were marched in before the O.C. (Officer Commanding). I confirmed we were not speeding but the road being wet and greasy we skidded. We were cautioned about driving carefully.

Move to Savenake Forest

From Froxfield we moved into a farm building in Savenake Forest, the wooded drives made a lovely car park for our vehicles. We slept upstairs in the old farm building. On the ground floor in what was an old sheep pen, was the dining room. I remember breakfast on one occasion being bread, margarine and cold fish. Very often the meat cooked in a field kitchen was underdone. The cook had been a coalman in Civvy Street, and I do not think he had had so many to cook for previously. There were some ripe comments! Mind you, I had never peeled potatoes by the hundredweight before.

The day came when I was detailed for driving instruction, so every day I went out under instruction driving a different vehicle. I did not mind when I had a fairly new truck or van, but one day I had to drive a 20-seater coach, a Bedford, but at the end of the week I passed the test, and was allocated another coach, an old Maudsley, with a gate change, no synchromesh. Trying to double-de-clutch on a hill was a nerve-racking experience. I cannot remember whether it had a self-starter, but I do know that trying to swing the starting handle in the cold weather, was often more than I could manage. I was not big or strong.

I was gaining confidence though, and one day I had to deliver rations to a company of the Gloucestershire Regt. in Marlborough. Their cookhouse was sited at the back of a building, through a narrow archway. The traffic was held up whilst I backed the coach through with about 6 inches to spare either side - fortunately I did not have to do it again. Once, when coming around a sharp corner, I cam across a wooden bollard in the centre of the street. I could not reverse, so I got out of the cab, shifted the bollard, got back into the cab and drove on.

It was now autumn and at the end of October weekend passes were issued; I enjoyed a weekend with the family and with Frieda. I bought a pair of Wellington boots to take back with me because I foresaw muddy times during the winter months in the forest.

Ablutions were carried out in the farmyard with cold water from the pump, and dining in a sheep pen on a floor covered with straw and dung, my thoughts were, if I can stand six months of these conditions I would survive most things.

In December most of the vehicles, especially the coaches, were returned to a motor pool, in a much sorrier state than when we took them over. We travelled to Swindon and collected our proper Army vehicles, some three-ton open cab Thorneycrofts, with gearboxes equipped for cross-country work. I drove on one occasion and found the gearbox difficult, also being a wet day the rain drove in under the canvas hood. Other vehicles were one-ton or thirty-cwt. trucks and three-ton lorries. My vehicle was a one-ton Ford truck.

Christmas came and I was fortunate enough to get leave, though memories are now dim of what we did during the holiday. Frieda was not very well (none of us suspected anything serious) and we spent time between our family homes.

On return from leave I found that my Wellington boots which I had left with another soldier had been stolen (probably sold).

Off to France

In January 1940 orders came for us to proceed to Southampton for shipment to Le Havre in France. A good drive down, the weather being bright and dry. I ran out of petrol, (owing to my having left the choke open on my vehicle,) and stopped outside a pub. Another driver gave me a tin of paraffin instead of petrol in error, so I was told to stay with my vehicle and await the breakdown lorry. When nightfall came, the pub landlord gave me supper, bed and breakfast. The breakdown lorry came, and when I arrived at the Docks I received a good telling off from the Transport Sergeant. We boarded the Transport Ship and arrived at Le Havre late afternoon. We were then marched to a large empty warehouse whilst our vehicles were being unloaded.

It was chaos; there were no proper arrangements for all the troops arriving. We had to make do with half a tin of soup, a piece of bread, and we were issued with one blanket each for we had to sleep on the warehouse floor. Next day we collected our vehicles and drove to Dechy, near Douai, Northern France. Dechy was a small coalmining village, and it was to become our home until the 10th May 1940 (when the Germans attacked Belgium, Holland and France).

Billet at Dechy

Our first billet was an old barn, and then we moved into old condemned houses, our dining room being the local village hall (Salle). It was a Communist area and slogans were everywhere on the walls praising Russia. Our vehicles were parked alongside the coalmine, and we would see the miners going to and from their shifts. When on guard duty it would be very scary at 2 a.m. in the morning when you would hear the patter of feet as a miner passed by in the darkness.

Occasionally we would go to Douai to see a film with English subtitles, and also pop in a caf茅 for a coffee and cognac, Pernod, or grenadine. We felt very sophisticated! I visited a brothel on one occasion, but it was not an experience to be repeated, too odious!

The local residents in Dechy were very good to us. They would invite us to use their washhouses, provided us with hot water, and in cold weather gave us coffee and cognac.

During January and February the roads were snowy and icy. Once when driving through Lens I skidded around some parked vehicles by steering onto a wide pavement and then back onto the road. The next time I skidded I wasn鈥檛 so lucky, it was on an S bend and I slid into the ditch. Eventually the vehicle and I were rescued, and then my Sergeant marched me in before the O.C. and charged me with careless driving and damaging a vehicle. I got seven days extra guard duty (cannot remember if I was stopped any pay). During this period we were picking up rations from the nearest Railhead, and delivering them to units of the Royal Warwicks and 鈥淕losters鈥�.

I was on guard duty at the beginning of May 1940, when a big air raid took place; it was the start of the German invasion of Belgium. Up till then it had been a phoney war with little activity. I believe some Infantry Units had patrolled beyond the Maginot line, which extended to the Belgium border and not to the sea coast. As our transport companies moved forward, with supplies, petrol and ammo, some Belgian troops were beginning to pull back. The feeling among our Officers and troops was 鈥渓et us get at Jerry鈥�, because we had been led to believe that 鈥淛erry鈥� had very little in the supply of tanks and guns, etc. What fools we were; our tanks were small, poorly armoured and under-gunned, and our 6 pounder and 25 pounder guns were not a match for 鈥淛erry鈥檚鈥� guns and tanks.

The Maginot line 鈥� housing the best French troops 鈥� heavily fortified, was not attacked. The attack came in the gap where the Maginot line finished, and the gap was defended by weak French and Belgian troops. The BEF (British Expeditionary Forces) were rushed up but could not stop the breakthrough. My company transport collected food and supplies where possible but we were on the move all the time. Once returning from a delivery with a second driver, in the dark, I lost the convoy and, pulling onto the grass verge, slept through the night and found my company again the next morning. We often drove through the night, which was nerve-racking because we only had small dim lights to drive by. German planes often attacked the roads, which were packed with refugees; so keeping in convoy was difficult. Jumping out of a vehicle to dive into a ditch was not very good for morale.

On one occasion we were parked in a village square, when a convoy of Bren gun carriers was moving through, they were suddenly attacked by German fighters; in a panic I ran around in a circle looking for a hole to dive into. That night we harboured in a wood. Eventually, presumably following orders, we drove to the NAAFI Warehouse at Lille to load rations. On arrival the place was deserted; so we loaded food, cigarettes, and drink. I put some cigarettes and two bottles of wine in my pack, but our personal things were left behind. We returned to our harbouring area, off-loaded the supplies from the smaller vehicles 鈥� which were then destroyed 鈥� onto the larger vehicles and then we made for the beaches, finishing up in the area of Bray Dunes.

Previous to this I had made a delivery to the 145 Field Ambulance Unit near the coast. The Regt. Sergeant Major (RSM) said that they may have to stay behind to look after the wounded, would I let his wife know if I got back safely. He gave me the address 鈥� I am pleased to say that he did get home safely.

Rescued from the French coast

On arrival at the beach about midday, I think it was a Wednesday, but cannot remember the date; we left the lorries and made our way through the sand dunes towards the sea. There were already hundreds of soldiers queuing up awaiting boats to pick them up. Suddenly there would be an attack of Stukas and fighters attacking the ships and the beach areas, and we would dash for the sand dunes or drop where we were. Ships were hit, one minute I saw a destroyer, the next minute it had been sunk. A hospital ship, the Crested Eagle, was hit and beached nearby. The cries of the wounded and dying were horrible; I had been making my way along the beach when this happened. Eventually, I decided there was not much chance of rescue that evening, so I wandered back to the sand dunes and tried to sleep through the night. I was in full uniform, tin helmet and rifle, and had some hard rations and water in my bottle. Although not exactly calm and easy in mind, I was sure that once aboard a ship the Navy would get me home safely. Somehow what had happened to other ships did not seem to register in my mind. Everyone around me was asking where the hell are the RAF?

It was now Thursday morning; queues were forming down to the water. I had lost sight of my fellow-drivers, so I joined a queue, which did not appear to move, so I wandered down to the edge of the sea. A boat appeared, manned by a sailor. With many others I waded out up to my armpits and scrambled aboard the boat, which was then rowed to a waiting ship. I clambered up the nets hung over the side and found a space to sit, the deck was already crowded and we soon headed for England. Planes appeared and fortunately they were the RAF. After a peaceful passage we docked late afternoon (Dover I think because it was straight off the ship onto a train). The train stopped at London where we were given tea and sandwiches, and then I was dropped off at Chesterfield. The family I was billeted with, together with Cliff (from Tredegar,) thought we were Belgians, because they had been asked to take in some Belgian soldiers. It was grand to be having proper food and a good bed again. On arrival we had been given 5/- for cigarettes and other items.

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