大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by Chris Comer of Stockport Libraries on behalf of Fred Hirst and has been added to the site with his permission. The author fully understands the site鈥檚 terms and conditions.

Fred was serving with the 2/5th Battalion, The Sherwood Foresters in Tunisia in 1943.
B Company found themselves on the front line near a hill that became known as 鈥楪reen Hill鈥� trying to hold a series of positions and suffering continual heavy bombardment from the Germans and spates of inclement weather.

During the Battle of Sedjenane the company experienced a determined attack from the enemy and eventually retreated from a hill which was taken by the Germans. During this episode he lost contact with his friend Sissons and never saw him again. The Battalion reformed near Tamera and again were moved back to the front line where again they came under heavy bombardment.

鈥淲ithin a few minutes of taking up our positions we came under severe bombardment from enemy artillery and I had no idea from which direction it was coming. Not far away was the distinctive sound of Stuka dive bombers screaming down as they dropped their bombs. Then came the terrible cries for help from casualties nearby as the explosions continually rent the air. Then the shelling eased off and those of us who had survived were ordered to move out and return in the direction from which we had come. Why we were put there in the first place I will never understand鈥�

Shortly after this in March 1943 Fred鈥檚 platoon were the victims of friendly fire at Tamera. They had been ordered to attack a particular objective on a hill near Tamera Station.

鈥淚t was very heavy going and we were exhausted when we had only made a little progress. We could hear gunfire starting up when suddenly there was an explosion about 30 yards in front of me. I heard a voice shout 鈥淪top鈥�, and then another explosion took place in front of me but to the right of the first one. Whatever was going on? As the ringing in my ears subsided and my senses cleared I could see several of my Platoon comrades who looked to be dreadfully wounded or worse. It transpired that two shells from our own supporting artillery had dropped on to our positions. The voice shouting 鈥楽top鈥� turned out to be the artillery observation officer who was up with us to direct the fire. From what I observed it looked as if the second shell must have already been on its way when he shouted, and it landed very close to where he was positioned. I did not know his fate, but suspected the worst. It was a tragic case of 鈥楩riendly Fire鈥�, a tremendous shock to me and those around me鈥�

Fred鈥檚 platoon were subsequently directed to another hill in the Tamera area where they were split up into an arrow shape with Fred鈥檚 section of 8 men forming the front part of the arrow with another section behind to the left and one to the right. The platoon came under heavy bombardment again but Fred鈥檚 section remained in their position. Shortly after the section Leader asked for two volunteers to work their way 50 yards back to a supply point to collect the Section鈥檚 food rations. Fred and another man volunteered but when they reached the supply point it was strangely deserted.

鈥淢y companion said he would return to the section to find out what was happening there, and to report that there was no-one at the ration dump. He had only just departed, leaving me holding all this food in my arms, when small arms fire began cracking immediately over my head, and voices were shouting 鈥淗ands up Tommy, hands up Tommy鈥�

Fred had been captured by the Germans.

As was the practice at that time, the Germans handed Fred over to the Italians, along with other allied prisoners of war captured in North Africa, to be transported to POW camps in Italy.

They endured a terrifying sea voyage in the hold of an Italian cargo ship during which they came under attack, possibly from allied forces. Fred was particularly concerned because he was frightened of ending up in the water as he could not swim. However the ship escaped unscathed and they finally disembarked in the port of Livorno in Northern Italy.

Fred Hirst wrote a book about his experiences called 鈥楢 Green Hill Far Away鈥� Extracts from this book, indicated by speechmarks, have been reproduced with the permission of the author and the publisher.

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