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‘That first Battle’ - by Alastair ‘Jock’ Troup

It was a week before the Regiment fought its first battle. On June 26th 1944 'C' Squadron commanded by Major D.G. Bevan went into action at La Taille North of Unchy.

This action was typical of the many bitter struggles fought in the bridgehead. Although the objective was often not more than 1000 yards from the start line it nonetheless lay in the heart of the enemy's defenses, the approaches ahead were mined and covered by every sort of fire. All the usual forms of nastiness were there and some tanks were lost on mines and by enemy fire. In spite of these obstacles the attack by 'C' Squadron was successful.

The objective was taken but not without loss -

It was a wet morning when we were told that we were 'going into action’; I was wearing my olive oilskin jacket with a scarf wrapped several times around my neck. I was Frank Hickson's gunner.

As we crashed through the first hedge and started to plunge down a bank, I put my right boot in a gap in the turret cage as Frank said - "traverse quickly and miss that tree!"

In the urgency of the moment I simply reacted to his order and in doing so forgot about my foot, the cage swung round, slicing off the sole of my boot breaking my small toe - a painful start to an even more painful day.

As dusk began to fall we were told to return to 'laager' since the infantry had dug in. We turned around with the gun facing the enemy (blanket box over the driver’s hatches) and started to crawl back, firing machine bursts up & down the hedgerows. The tank stopped, I waited, the moment was tense, not a word from anybody, — In the next second there was the intense smell of acrid smoke and red hot metal. We’d been hit! I hadn’t seen a gun flash but fired a round of H E in any event. Then, silence. We’d been told that you have only got seven seconds to get out once hit, and there I was peering through the telescope as the seconds ticked away. Power traverse wasn’t working so I scrambled for the turret exit and rolled out over the side of the tank.

Winded by the fall I lay on the ground waiting for the others. The waiting seemed to last forever — no one came — what had happened? I looked up & saw tanks burning on our right & behind us. I sensed that I had to get away & rolled away from the burning wreck in case the ammo went up. I saw some stretcher bearers carrying somebody off & raised my arm and waved, the pain was excruciating. Through the sound of the burning tank behind me I was motioned to lie still. My wits were returning, these stretcher bearers were going in the opposite direction!

I decided to make a break for it and began to crawl towards our own lines along the tracks which we had made when coming forward. My face, hands & feet were now very painful. About ten feet in front of the tank I saw Frank Hickson lying still on his back. I whispered ‘Frank — are you OK’, as I got nearer to him I could see no sign of any wounds but his eyes were closed as his life gurgled away. How did he get there? What had hit him? Why was his body not slumped inside the turret? So many questions lay unanswered.

My theory is that we took two 88’s the first hitting the front of the tank killing the drivers. I hoped it had because they would never have been able to open their hatches. I reckoned the second shell came through the blanket box or the turret, killing the wireless set operator and exited at the front. Later I learned that a ‘Tiger’ or ‘Panther’ had been in a wood behind our advance and had begun picking off ‘C’ squadron tanks starting with those at the rear.

After leaving Frank, I crawled on until a darkened face popped up from a hole and said ‘who goes there?’ I was terrified that I would be shot since by now I could hardly speak but managed to utter ‘tank’ and pointed at our vehicle. Another soldier opened my jacket and read my AB 64 — ‘OK come in’ he said. I managed to point to where Frank was lying and said ‘wounded’, OK we’ll get him was the reply. Two of the infantry then helped me to where Hank Bevan mid several others were all gathered round a tank looking very despondent. Hank asked about the others and I shook my head. ‘Did you fire that gun?’ he asked. I nodded.

After that it was off to the MO’s tent as it was now dark. Head & arms covered in bandages I was taken off in a stretcher on top of a jeep. Arrived at Bayeaux hospital. On my arrival I went into shock! One of the nurses told me to get a grip of myself as she put me on a drip! A while later I had a brown luggage label tied on and two orderlies said ‘you are lucky’ — ‘you are going by plane. I was later flown to Gloucester and was transferred to the burns wing of that hospital. For the first three weeks I was fed on milk stout! I could do nothing for myself but after a couple of months I was on the mend.

Following a period of three weeks leave I was posted to a holding unit as A1 and was ready to make up for the losses which were expected to be sustained in crossing the Rhine. Fortunately 1st Northamptonshire Yeomanry had virtually no losses when taking over 51st HD and I rejoined them at Kalkar. I remained with the regiment until it was disbanded. I then got posted to the 10th Royal Hussars losing my third stripe as I hadn’t had t long enough. I hated the Hussars and managed to persuade my Uncle, a farmer outside Aberdeen, to get me three months leave to help with getting the harvest in. He then sought and got a three month extension as I had thousands of rabbits to eradicate -

This was my Father’s account of his War experiences in 1944. I don’t know if he made any further contribution to the War following his injuries and subsequent convalescence. I do know that he suffered severe burns to his face and hands & much reconstructive work was carried out. I believe that he was operated on by the famous reconstructive surgeon of the day Dr Mc Millan? Not sure of the name.

I found his documents after his death in 1998 along with a number of photographs from the War years. Many of his comrades in the pictures will have been lost in action at the time. I do know that was in touch with Ken Tout — author of the book ‘Tank’ a few years before his death. In the book Ken describes the action in which my Father played his part, I remember that it brought back the very painful memories of the day not only for him personally but in the years that followed.

I shall keep his memories sacred to the end of my life in gratitude for his love and kindness which he so generously gave to me. I am proud to have been his son and I remember with warmth & affection the wonderful times we shared together.

I love you Dad, May you rest in peace

Ian

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