大象传媒

I belonged to the 214/57th HAA Regiment (TA), C Section, which occupied Rat Lane, the civilian Rugby ground with our 1916 3 inch guns, but I had been promised some good pitches to play on, it was not until after we had been "stood down" and returned our guns to the depot that it was discovered that each gun had gone out minus its firing mechanism. It must have taken ages to get the pitch back to normal after the state we left it in.

We attended our annual practice camp at Weybourne Norfolk, on the 19th August 1939 and on the 22nd were mobilised again and on our way back to Portsmouth and our new War Stations. Just eleven months after the 1938 crisis and here we were 1 & 3 Sections on a purpose built gun site on the corner of Southsea common, right opposite the Clarence Pier, manning four Naval 4.5 inch guns while the other Sections of the Battery 2 & 4 had 3.7 inch guns at the other end of Southsea front at Fort Cumberland. Eventually, 4.5 inch sites were completed at Sinah, Hayling Island and on the other side of the harbour, in Gosport at Holbrook and Gilkicker Point.

Following the declaration of war on 3rd September 1939, it was anticipated that air raids would follow and training on the 4.5 inch guns was intensified, drills for ground defence and various other measures were dealt with in preparation for any eventuality.

Early in 1940, enemy air operations began, at first they were confined to mine laying in the Solent during the hours of darkness and action was restricted to occasional targets illuminated by search light until the first early Radar (GL) sets were available. In July, air attacks began in earnest by both day and night, the first daylight raid occurred on the 11th and we bagged our first two Heinkels, while the 6 Spitfires of 145 Squadron, Tangmere, shot down nine for certain, with a possible two more, for the loss of only two Spitfires, but the pilots arrived safely back at Tangmere. That was at the start of the Battle of Britain, in some raids as many as 300 plus hostile planes were involved.

1941 opened with the Blitz on Portsmouth and Gosport and until early April, the Battery was in action at night almost continuously until May, when enemy action gradually died down and by September, we left the Portsmouth area to commence mobile training ready to move overseas. This training involved a spell at Oakhampton on the field gun ranges where we used the guns in a dual purpose roll, ground as well as anti-aircraft. This proved invaluable because when we landed at Port Tewfik in Egypt on 3rd September 1942, after a seven week free Atlantic cruise, stopping only three days at Cape Town, we were issued with some dear old 3 inch guns again on a 4 wheel platform, my cannon was a Mark III, of 1914 vintage. These guns had been given to the Egyptian Government after the 1914-18 Great War, together with literally tons and tons of ammunitions. We were told the 3 inch mobile mounting was ideal for desert movement and the 3 inch guns suitable for various tasks in forward areas, this theory was proved in practise in subsequent months.

We were now part of the 8th Army and from Alamein to Tunis we seemed to be on the move all the time, sometimes on the very busy coastal road on which the whole army moved, but often on the open desert or tracks where the use of the sun compass was the only means of navigation, maps providing only direction with few landmarks, except for occasional trig points which consisted of an empty barrel on a cairn of stones. We seemed to adapt quickly to the heat and dust, but dessert nights are very cold, one became very quickly focused, ordinary every day things became quite precious, water of course was always rationed. The whole gun team washed in the same water which was then carefully filtered through sand and saved for the next time. Reading material was almost non existent such as books or papers. We really missed that, most of us could quote labels word for word on various tins i.e. 鈥楢rmourers鈥� Corned Beef and Soya Sausages, known as links of love, Mcahonachy鈥檚 M & V Vegetable Stew, which, together with rice and biscuits (we never saw bread), was our main diet.

The gun became the centre of our existence, we lived, ate and slept around it, cleaned it, oiled it, nursed it and at times fired it, you become part of a well ordered, highly efficient, well disciplined team, team being the operative word, because within the team spirit friendships were forged that have lasted all these years. We still meet every year at our annual reunion, they say once a gunner, always a gunner. Everything we had was shared, even mail, letters from home meant everything and Monty (Field Marshall Montgomery) in his wisdom, together with food and ammunition, gave them top priority. Clothing was well down the list, he said there were plenty of dumps of clothing abandoned when the desert battles had surged to and fro prior to the present advance. The Africa Corps, soft caps with a sun flap for the neck was much appreciated, as were the Italian knee length, canvas topped boots, we must have looked a motley crowd at times, something out of Gilbert and Sullivan Opera. Cigarettes were our one luxury, all be it they were the infamous Victory V鈥檚, they were absolutely foul. Weevils in the tobacco bored holes in the paper, and Bob Spall our gun tractor driver in his wonderful Suffolk accent used to say, 鈥測ou needed a bread poultice on the back of your neck to help you to draw on them and we don鈥檛 even get bread.鈥�

The excitement and anticipation was intense when the shout of "mail up" was heard, usually the gun sergeant went over to the command post to collect his own gun team鈥檚 mail, there was the acute disappointment if anyone failed to get a letter, it often prompted one of the lucky ones to say, "no letter, that鈥檚 rough, you can read one of mine". I had a Canadian cousin, Eileen, who wrote regularly during the war time, these were always past around, she got one of her office friends to write and sent photographs, quite recently she came over for a visit some fifty odd years on, I took her down to Portsmouth to see one or two of the boys, they still had the photos.

Christmas 1942 came and went. Tobruk had just been retaken and it was almost non-stop advance and by the end of January we reached Tripoli. They put on a bit of a show once the town had been re-captured, all the inhabitants were lined up along the seafront to witness the 51st Highland Divisions march into the town centre in full Highland dress, bagpipes and all. This was very stirring, I can still see and hear them now, coming around the bay, on the coastal road they had slogged up all the way from Alamein, leaving their visiting card, when possible, daubed on knocked out tanks, guns etc. Their Divisional Sign was HD with cryptic messages such as 鈥榳hen in doubt brew up鈥�, they became known as they HIGHWAY DECORATORS.

A welcome short break in Tripoli to refit, then on into Tunisia with a subtle change in landscape, although still predominately desert. I remember a little Auster, a canvas and plywood plane used by the artillery for ariel observations, landing by the gun, enquiring if we had any petrol to get him back to base, the front of his battle dress was stuffed with grass. He was taking it back to show the chaps in the mess and by the 24th May, it was all over. Tunis and the promise of leave, even a pay-day, we got our leave and pay but it was 10 days in Cairo, after a twelve day trek all the way back to the Delta some 1500 miles, where we rather sadly exchanged our dear old 3 inch for a brand new 3.7, stripped and modified as a DP (dual purpose) gun. Our 10 day leave in Cairo was really something. Eight of us in a pick-up truck were stopped by armed Egyptian policeman (not to be trifled with), from turning into Cairo鈥檚 main thoroughfare because Queen Farina was returning from hospital with her latest new born baby. With almost a year鈥檚 back pay in our pockets, a rather generous donation quickly allowed the barrier to be lifted and we joined the head of her procession, flanked by outriders in a triumphant entry into the city centre to the ecstatic cheering of the crowds, who lined the streets, to who we stood and formally acknowledged the restrained and approved royal wave. Army welfare had arranged selected hotels to put us up, we were lucky to pick one that was run by a retired Geordie couple, it was sheer heaven. I spent the whole afternoon soaking in a large hot bath full to the brim, being supplied at regular intervals with ice cold beer or lemonade, sandwiches and fresh fruit. For dinner that night they gave us a traditional English roast, with all the trimmings, followed of course by plum-duff. All thoughts of hitting the town went out of the window when I saw the white sheeted bed which claimed me for the next fourteen hours solid, dreamless sleep. We dined each day at Groppic鈥檚 and spent the afternoon in the Metro Cinema, not to watch the film, but because it was air-conditioned. The night life was pretty hectic, but I think all of us settled for that real bed, that is what I remember most of Cairo. So ended the desert campaign.

Any fond thoughts of returning to the UK, or even home leave, had been scotched by Churchill when he told us he intended to keep a winning team in the field and by the end of July, we were back up in Tripoli, in intensive training for combined operations, i.e. loading and unloading from landing craft, water proofing guns, vehicles and also included a film show at the infamous Mirriama Theatre on the seafront, a training film made well before the outbreak of war, but a good laugh. Before the end of the film everyone was scratching like mad, the place was lousey and so were we, so a trip to a hastily assembled disinfectation centre concluded our training.

We sailed from Tripoli on the morning of the 4th September 1943 to rendezvous with the rest of the invasion force. We had been briefed about operation 鈥淎valanche鈥�, a landing on the mainland of Italy and were anchored right next to a large hospital ship which, during the hours of darkness, was fully illuminated by strings of electric lights. This seemed quite friendly, until on the night of the 6th August, we were subjected to a long and heavy bombing raid. We responded with fires from the old naval 3 inch, again there was one firmly bolted to the deck, but got a terrific telling off by the captain, did we not know this was an American 鈥淟iberty Ship鈥�, they could build one a day, and the plates were only spot welded and any sudden vibration caused the plates to spring a leak rather like a colander, which it did. We sailed the next morning and anchored in Selerno Bay, just before daylight on the 9th September. We had, on the trip over, been told of the Italian surrender, which inevitably caused us to think the landing would be a walk over. How wrong we were, it transpired that Jerry was well aware of the whole operation and was waiting for us.

As we approached the beachhead, we seemed to lose power, we learnt afterwards that the anchor they dropped over the stern, just before we beached, had fouled the propeller, so we were about twenty yards short of dry land. I was part of a reconnaissance party lead by our Brigadier (some years later he became quite famous as Sir Mortimer Wheeler the celebrated 大象传媒 television archaeologist). The doors opened and the ramp went down ready for us to disembark, the sooner the better, when it became obvious that it was as near to the beach as we were going to get. He turned to us with a broad smile on his face resplendent in his soft leather kilt and glengarry, armed only it seemed with a highly polish thumb stick and screwing his monocle firmly in his eye said, 鈥淒eep breath chaps, what a splendid day for an invasion.鈥� He stepped off the ramp and was totally submerged. Eventually, the end of his thumb stick appeared out of the water like a periscope moving towards the shore. Little Jock Hutchins, he was only about 5ft 2" and carrying on his back a W/T set , he was our wireless operator, turned to me and said, 鈥淚 can not swim Sarge鈥�, so I gave him my Tommie gun to carry, slung the W/T set over my shoulder grabbed him by his collar and jumped, my first of what later proved to be many dips in the Med., the next as I recall being a far more enjoyable and less stressful.

That was the start for us of the Italian campaign, a long hard slog from the landing at Salerno, on the 9th September 1943, till we fired our last rounds in anger, having crossed the River Po, on the 29th April 1945. The enemy in Italy surrendered unconditionally on 2nd May, a few days later, V E Day was celebrated and on the 14th May, our Regimental Thanksgiving Service was held at Fratla Polesine, a most impressive and symbolic parade. I still have the service sheet, the last paragraph is copied from the Battery鈥檚 Record of Service World War II, as compiled by Col. E Waddington OBE MC TD.
At the time, he was our Battery Commander. After the war, he sent each member of the Battery a copy, he was highly respected by each and every member of the Battery and affectionately known to all and sundry as Waddy. Again, quoting from his records, he summed up the campaign as such, active service conditions varied from intense heat to saturating rain and mud, and for the entire period the guns were deployed in forward open areas. Actions were numerous and too difficult to describe in detail but the most important operations of the campaign were the landing at Salerno, the crossing of the river Corigliano, the Cassino battles followed by the advance through the Gustav Line to Rome and on to Florence, and finally in the last stages, the attack on the Gothic Line, advancing to and crossing the Senio River to the Argenta Gap and eventually the crossing of the River Po where activities ceased.

With the suspension of hostilities, we became an Army of Occupation and all that that entails, from the rounding up and escorting POW鈥檚, the remnants of the defeated German troops, to of all things finding myself being NCO in charge of a Vice Squad, in Venice. I have no idea who decided that I had the right background and qualifications for the job, but it proved to be a most interesting and enlightening occupation, what is more, I got to know a beautiful and unique City very well. Early August and we were on our way home on a month鈥檚 leave, a three ton truck fitted with a wooden seat down each side and one down the middle, sporting a brightly painted headboard 鈥楨ighth Army Leave Party鈥�, carried about thirty men. Each day fifty or sixty such lorries set off, in convoy, from Villach, in Austria, on a five day overland route through Austria, Germany and France to Calais, across to Folkestone and home. Being reunited with family and friends, and just being home, is something none of us will ever forget, but the month passed all too quickly, then we were on our way back to Italy.

If I remember rightly, priority for demobilisation depended on age and length of service, as it was, mine was delayed some three or four months, by a spell in hospital, so it was September 21st 1946, exactly 7 years, 1 month and 2 days since we all set off quite happily for a fortnight鈥檚 practice camp.

Returning to the Drum Head Service of Thanksgiving we held in Northern Italy, when the fighting for us ended, I am reminded of the final part, just prior to the Blessing, it鈥檚 headed 鈥淭he Charge鈥�, and wonder perhaps that if universally acknowledged and practised throughout the world, whether the threat of war would ever again be a reality.

THE CHARGE

Go forth into the world in peace;
Be of good courage;
Hold fast to that which is good;
Render to no man evil for evil;
Strengthen the faint hearted;
Support the weak;
Help the afflicted;
Honour all men;
Love and serve the Lord;
Rejoicing in the power of the Holy Spirit, Amen.

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