大象传媒

"This story was submitted to the People's War site by Anna Jones of the 大象传媒 on behalf of Ernest Hamley and has been added to the site with his permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions."

My war started in 1939 being evacuated with my Mother, and siblings to a remote cottage in Cornwall. With a brief return to London in 1942 to become a messenger with my Dad in Brixton during the intense bombing which included incendiary bombs and blasted windows in our house.

I was called up when I was just 18. I was part of one of the largest single intakes of 1400 men into the British Army in one day.

The depot was Squires Gate Holiday Camp in Blackpool but it certainly was no holiday. We were confined to barracks for 6 weeks.
This brought together a very disparate group of men and the peak of their career training. Like many others there was no real teenage period for university or other career training.

Intensive battle training ensued including use of live ammunition in which there were 10% of casualties.

Having completed this I and my colleagues were taken in sealed three tonne lorries to a remote airfield in Berkshire from which we noted many gliders lined up so we feared we were going to go in a glider attack. Fortunately the transport provided was a Royal Canadian Airforce Dakota called "Gloomy Sunday" and had a series of bomb marks on it's fuselage to show it's missions.

The plane took off and landed on an advanced airstrip - which was nothing more than wire mesh on the mud - within sound of gunfire behind the lines in Belgium. We thought we were going to be taken straight into action.

Ironically we headed back to France, a place called Corby were we stayed for a week exchanging our bully beef for eggs. Before being put into cattle tracks and taken slowly up to the real gunfire at which point I joined my very much depleted unit. And was given the Projectile Infantry Anti Tank. It weighs 32lb and you fire it at tanks. I quickly disposed of that and resorted to our usual infantry weapons.

I was soon involved slip trenches and manning the forward positions with only the crack enemy troops of Panzer grenadiers and parachutists.

The battle of the Reichwald Forest took place over 28 days from 8th Feburary 1945. And there were 15,600 casulties on the Allied side of which I was one. The Germans suffered much more. On a personal side I was evacuated on a stretcher carried by 4 German prisoners. Under the Geneva Convention they showed great concern not to put anything on my legs in case they were injured. On 1 March I was admitted to a Canadian Field Hospital formerly a maternity hospital in Goch. There were no beds just stretchers on the floor and on one side was a German soldier and on the other side a Canadian. We were all treated alike. He too was only 18 like me.

A few days later, we were put into a hospital train and I was on a penicillin drip - almost one of the first available. Eventually after convalescence (I was in in a home in Dehaan on the Belgium coast, on the day war ended on the 8th May 1945) I re-joined my unit which had by then taken over from the Americans in Solingen-Remscheid near Rhein. Our duties were guarding German war criminals. I remember covering the huge camps of displaced persons many of whom had no identity, awaiting to be sent back to their home countries.

Soon after one Highland Light Infantry was ear-marked to help finish the war in Japan. Our advance party had already left by air for Kentucky in America. Fortunately or unfortunately - the bomb was dropped and we were retained in Belgium on what was called the Imperial Strategic Reserve. From a little airfield north of Brussels we were flown to the Middle East.

I de-mobilised and put on the Z reserves (a reserve for specialists). No longer a teenage, but 22 years of age having been in at least 10 or 12 countries and seen a lot of action. A lot of real experiences.

The impact of war on teenagers is doubly heightened by the fact that immediately I joined my unit a sergeant came to ask for volunteers for a short job - a burial party. I was confronted with the bodies of eight Welsh fusillliers wrapped in blankets still wearing their boots. They were teenages too probably. The padrais came round to conduct the service and said "are any of these new recuits?". Quickly my hand went up. And he said "I will not have young men introduced to this fine regiment by such an unfortunate incident". I was thoroughly relieved.

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