大象传媒

Denis A E Roby (1921-2003)

This book is my recollections of the war and my experiences in the Royal Corps of Signals and in No.1 Commando Brigade Signal Troop 1939鈥�1946.

I was 18 years old when war was declared in 1939, and my first thought was to dash out and join up. My father had died from wounds received in the 1914-18 war, so I suppose I thought I could get back at the Germans but fate was to take a hand.

At the butchers where I worked we were plagued with wasps. I attempted to hit one with the knife and my right eye was at the receiving end. I was sent by ambulance to Moorfields Eye Hospital in London was operated on that evening; I lost two thirds of my sight in that eye. I was allowed home after two weeks but not to work for six months.

The war was a stalemate until early in 1940 when the Germans started what they called the Blitzkrieg. France surrendered and by a miracle the British and some French forces were evacuated from Dunkirk. As a result of this disaster Winston Churchill called for volunteers to form an elite force to harass the enemy on the coast of Europe and soon we started hearing of attacks by Commando鈥檚 with faces blacked out.

Then came the call for volunteers from 16 years upwards to form a Home Guard. I joined and old soldiers from the 1914-18 war taught us to drill. I was still having to visit the hospital so joining the army was still out of the question, but the Home Guard excepted me.

Eventually I was discharged from hospital, and in December 1940 I volunteered for the army and passed the medical A1. The doctor wouldn鈥檛 believe I couldn鈥檛 see out of one eye, and said I was trying to get out of being called up, quite the reverse in fact. That suited me fine and in a few weeks I was posted to Catterick Camp, North Yorkshire to eventually become signalman Roby D 2597284.

It was freezing when I arrived at Richmond station. We were then transported by open truck to the stores to be given two of everything. Then just to make us welcome we were given shovels and told to clear the drill square of snow. We were then marched to the cookhouse and given a right royal feast, half a slice of bread, some dried egg and a mug of tea. My squad consisted of forty 18-19 year old volunteers. We were allocated a nissen hut, no fires or hot water until 4pm.

Next morning at 6am we were taken for a run stripped to the waist and then back for a wash and shave in cold water, 40 blokes and only 5 sinks. We were marched off for breakfast, a meal of porridge that could be cut with a knife, a tiny cube of frozen margarine, slice of bread and a spoon full of plum jam.

That first morning was taken up by what seemed to be, hundreds of inoculations and a dental inspection. After dinner we were marched back to the hut to be shown how the lay our kit out for inspection, followed by a short stroll of two miles to break our boots in. By now we had got to know one another and picked out special friends. Mine were three Scotsmen, all from Aberdeen, John Craig, George Mitchell and Stu Boyde. We became firm mates, borrowing fags and money from whoever had any.

The next month was taken up with rifle training and drill. Having already done quite a lot and having a liking for it, I became a squad leader, no extra cash but some responsibility. When our squad was picked for a main guard duty, we were proud because you had to be quite smart for that job. We were up half the night, polishing our boot toecaps to shine like glass, blancoing our webbing equipment and shining our brasses. We had cardboard in our packs to make them square, we all thought we looked marvellous; Grenadier Guards would have been shamed by us.

Two days later we had to sit a selection test and I was chosen to become a W.T operator (wireless operator). I supposed that having been a butcher in civvy street was the reason, after all one chap had been a bank clerk and he was to be a cook. The real reason we found out later was so many signallers had been killed and modern warfare was lost without communication.

So we began a four week crammed course in Morse code, heliograph, flags, lamp and semaphore. It was deafening in the mess room with blokes practising their Morse with forks and spoons. We had radio telegraphy, radio procedure, use of call signed abbreviated coding, and hundreds of other things that I thought I would never take in. Lucky enough my three mates and myself had been picked for the same job, so we could practise on each other.

I received a letter from my sister saying that our shop in London had received a firebomb and had been damaged so I was given one weeks home. My Corporal said he doubted that I would get back in my squad, as whilst I was away the rest would have taken their Group E exam. I was thankful on my return to find I was still in 476 squad, but I had to sit the exam on my own which fortunately I passed.

It was now time to take our final exam at Catterick. It was quite stiff, I had a job with the mobile phone exchange section, but sailed through the Morse, sending and receiving, setting up a radio station of an Army Corps, Division, Brigade, Battalion and Company. When I found I鈥檇 passed I felt such a real sense of achievement as I hadn鈥檛 been exactly a prize scholar at school.

A couple of days later we were sent out on a mobile scheme in radio trucks. While in the truck I sent a message in Morse and in code 鈥業鈥檓 transmitting on the move鈥�. For some reason our Section Officer thought this was marvellous and I was made an unpaid Lance Corporal Local, which meant I lost it when leaving the place.

We all got our postings, so we bade our farewell鈥檚, promising to correspond, which we never did, you always made fresh mates where ever you went. I was posted to the 43rd Wessex Division Signal Regiment at Canterbury. After a very pleasant 3 months, I was posted to Bromley in Kent to join the 18th Light Artillery Signal Troop.
Somehow I arrived with the wrong papers and was put in the kitchen. I complained to the Orderly Sergeant and he asked if I would like to be a Sergeants Mess waiter, so I gave it a try and had my best 6 months in the service. There were 2 of us, a chap named Grassie and myself, we had no guard or any other duties, and took it in turns to have every other Sunday off. I found I could get a 47 bus to Ponders End in Enfield to go home frequently.

My next posting was to 9 Corps Signals stationed in mud surrounded nissen huts, 7 miles outside Swaffham in Norfolk. There I was made sanitary orderly, cleaning toilets etc. I hated it, and then one day I was ordered to clear the sewer to the Officers Mess. I took one look at it blocked to the top with excrement and refused, pointing out that it was a job for an expert sanitary engineer.

I was placed on a charge and appeared before the Colonel next day for refusing to obey an order. I explained that the job was for a skilled person and that I could only make it worse. I also pointed out that it must have cost a lot of money to train me to be a wireless operator and considerable time too. There was deathly hush and I thought I was for the glass house, but the Colonel was in a mellow mood and said he agreed it was an engineer鈥檚 job, he gave me 7 days confined to camp.

I spent my first Xmas in the army (1941) waited on by the Officer and Sergeants. A visiting General gave us a speech and one embittered private gave a reply that I have never forgotten but will not repeat here. There was silence all through the hut and all eyes went to the General for his reaction, but being Xmas he decided to ignore it. Unfortunately our Company Commander didn鈥檛 and the poor bloke finished up with my sanitary orderly job.

I put in for a posting and my luck must have changed. I was sent to Northern Command Signals, right in the middle of York. I passed my BII exam which was the highest wartime rating. I was made up to full Corporal and put in charge of the radio command room that was in a large cellar opposite the Theatre Royal. I made friends with a chap from Glasgow called Mac, nice chap but never had any fags of money, but good company.

We were billeted in Strensall Barracks and in January 1942 and I became a Lance Sergeant. I didn鈥檛 mind because there wasn鈥檛 much work attached to it and I didn鈥檛 have to be a disciplinarian, the blokes were easy to get on with and were all my mates.

In March 1942 came the news of the Commando attack on St. Nazair in France, a classic disruption of an enemy battle ship harbour, which they blew up with a ship full of explosives. I felt full of envy, how different from the humdrum job I was doing, but of course didn鈥檛 think of the unlucky one鈥檚 who were killed. Mac and I applied to join the Commandos but were refused permission.

In August another raid was carried out by the Canadian Army with 40 Royal Marine Commando, 3 and 4 Commando in support. It must have been a badly kept secret because the Germans appeared to be waiting and the Canadian鈥檚 suffered heavy losses on the beach. 3 Commando鈥檚 boats were attacked by enemy ships but some managed to land and carried out their job, as did 4 Commando. I suppose a lesson was learned at the cost of many young lives.

Shortly after this there was a call for volunteers for Commando. Mac and I applied again and but refused permission. However, we were given the opportunity to be attached to time 鈥楶hantoms鈥�, these were electronics experts in radio and radar. At the time they were experimenting with working teleprinter over radio waves. I won鈥檛 go into the job as it was so complicated that I never completely understood it, but it was all experience.

In 1943 we were transferred to begin the forming of the second army signals but after an argument with an officer I was demoted to Corporal. I was the i/c of a No.12 high power radio transmitter, housed in a 20cwt van that towed its KVA (generator). With a full 40-foot aerial we could transmit 200 miles, not bad in those days.

Mac and I realised that we would never get into the Commando while at army HQ, who were so jealous of losing their trained personnel. So we proceeded to make ourselves unpopular with the officers and I finished up losing my stripes again. We both applied for a transfer and were sent to join the Northamptonshire Yeomanry, a crack reconnaissance regiment of 49 Division, as a signal section.

They used half-track radio vehicles, light tanks and Bren carriers. We did intensive training for getting as close as possible to the enemy lines, reporting troop movement, identifying the same etc. I was promoted back to Corporal and put in charge of an armoured radio truck manned by 6 blokes and myself. I was learning more stuff all the time and Mac was still with me. In December 1943 volunteers were again called for the Commando鈥檚, Mac and I applied again and this time we were accepted. I had to give up my stripes, everyone except officers started level in the commandos.

We received a railway pass and told to report to Spean Bridge Station in Scotland for training at Achnacarry. Our train from Euston passed by snow-covered mountains, a beautiful sight that we would learn to hate before long. We arrived at Spean Bridge at 8pm, about 150 of us, boy it was cold. A truck arrived with a Sergeant a Corporal and a bag piper. The kit bags went in the truck and we formed up in 3鈥檚 and it started to snow. Then we marched 7 miles to Achnacarry House, cold, hungry and fed up. We were allocated nissen huts, given a meal and afterwards tried to get some sleep on the floor.

At 5am we were roused by the ringing of a bell and the order to be outside in 5 minutes, washed and shaved. You imagine the mad scramble, 50 blokes, 5 sinks and cold water. We did 20 minutes of exercises to get our blood thawed out, then were marched off for a breakfast of porridge so thick I swear it was made in a mould.

Then it started, we were taken on a 12-mile speed march, half trotting and half walking, just to get to know the terrain, up and down hills, across streams. I must admit that after a few miles in was a relief to run through freezing water, I was sure I could see steam coming from my boots, although we鈥檇 been issued with special boots with thick soles. We arrived back to a hot mug of tea and were allowed to sit with our feet up till dinner at 1pm.

After dinner we were put through 4 hour periods of weapon training with bren gun, light machine gun, anti tank mortar 2鈥�, revolver, and of course the Lea Enfield rifle, learning how to strip, clean and re-assemble in double quick time. We had this for 2 days and had inter troop competitions to see who was faster. Healthy games as we got so that we could strip and re-assemble a rifle in a record time blindfolded. We had priming of hand grenades and had grenade-throwing practice. Usually we primed them with a 5 second fuse, so you pulled the pin and counted 3 before throwing, that gave the enemy no time to throw it back.

We had a Sergeant named Moon who instructed us in living off the land, laying traps etc. One session he was explaining how to cook an animal by covering it with clay and placing it in the heart of a fire. After a few minutes he removed it, broke off the clay and the fur came off with it. He cut some slices and gave us all some to taste, we gave guesses such as rabbit and squirrel, but when he said Achnacarry rat we tried hard to keep it down, some failed.

As the training began to get more intensive some fell by the wayside and were returned to their original units. Live ammunition was used and you had to obey instructions at once, we had some casualties. As you advanced across a designated area a whistle would suddenly sound and you flung yourself prone, and a machine gun would pattern the ground a few feet in front of you. If you didn鈥檛 stop at the whistle the result was not pleasant.

When using the 鈥榗at walk鈥� or 鈥榙eath slide鈥� live grenades were thrown into the River Arkaig under you just for realism. The 鈥榗at walk鈥� was a single rope slung across the water. We learned to cross, balanced with one foot hooked the rope behind you, then pulling yourself along, body laying on the rope. Fall in and you started again.

The 鈥榙eath slide鈥� was a rope again, but this time sloping down at an alarming angle. A toggle rope, which was about 4 foot in length, a wooden handle one end and a loop at the other, it was used as a climbing aid among other good uses. Joined with others it could be used for scaling cliffs, but on this occasion we passed it over the single rope, one hand passed through the loop and the other on the handle then slid down the rope at an alarming speed, stopping by bracing your feet against the tree at the end, or fall in the river.

The toggle rope was also used to build a bridge over the river, very difficult to use because it swung too and fro with a mind of its own. This caused a lot of laughter, but two chaps slipped and fell through the ropes into the river and were swept away and later found quite some distance away. After that a grapple net was suspended as a safety measure.

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