大象传媒

War Memories as written by Leonard William McKay in 1983
Len was Born 18th Feb 1912 in North London and now lives with his wife Eileen in a retirement home in Batemans Bay, Australia

When I left school I obtained a job as a clerk for the Performing Right Society, a Society formed to protect the music composers rights when the music was performed in public. I detested it and so I went round applying for jobs everywhere. I wanted to join the Hong Kong Police after reading an advert but Mum and Dad would not hear of it. So then I tried the London Police but was half an inch too short. Luckily one or my applications was answered and I became a Sales Representative for a firm selling Jelly crystals, Custard powder etc. My territory was North London and the adjoining counties. I was a good salesman and was soon given a car and was allowed to carry some stock to sell to the smaller shops that only required small amounts. I used to enjoy the look on peoples faces when I gave them a lift, for the car was highly scented indeed by the various jelly flavours. All was going well until the threat of war. I joined the Auxiliary Fire Service and trained as a Fireman learning to rescue people from burning buildings etc.
When it became obvious that War was indeed a possibility my firm asked me to collect in all monies due to them and intimated that they would be unable to carry on selling sugar based foods, especially non essential ones. I went to the London, Scottish Regiment, a Territorial Army Unit where I knew a few friends. However owing to the rapid expansion of the army I found myself in the second Battalion while my friends were Battalion and I never saw them again.
The parent Regular Army Regiment for the London Scottish is the Gordon Highlanders and their headquarters is at the Brig of Don barracks just outside Aberdeen. I was a volunteer and at my age I was seven or eight years older than the conscripts so that when I boarded the train in London to go to Aberdeen it seemed to be full of mere boys. They were all very excited - laughing and joking - little did they realise what lay before them and to some extent as I found out, nor did I. When we arrived in Aberdeen the others all rushed off to the barracks but I decided to have a look around first. Although I had a Scottish surname I had never before set foot in Scotland and this thought of not knowing Scotland had been troubling my mind for Some time. So I spent a few hours looking around Aberdeen. I went to a barbers shop and had my hair cut short - I did not fancy an Army barber shearing my locks. After a few pleasant hours of sightseeing I made my way to the barracks and when the inducting Sergeant asked why I had not arrived with the other Londoners I jokingly said that I had walked up.
Unfortunately he did not have a sense of humour and I was nearly put on a charge for insolence before I had been in the Army for two minutes which would have been something of a record. The system was, that as men streamed through the gates they were collected in groups and those groups became platoons - when they had the right number. My arrival coincided with a group of country lads from the far north of Scotland and I soon found that I could not understand a word they said. There I was, in the middle of a very friendly lot of chaps but feeling very lonely and out of things because of their broad Scots dialect. I already knew the basic Army Drill for while I had been a Boy Scout a retired Army P.T. Instructor put us through Army Drill to smarten us up. Therefore parade ground Drill was quite easy for me and it was soon noticed by the Drill Instructor, in fact he voiced strong suspicions that I had been in the Army before. It also became obvious that I was the only one that knew his right hand from his left and so after two weeks I was made a Lance Corporal which I think probably is a record. Life became progressively harder as we were introduced to the sterner side of the Army training and we all wished we were back home.

I remember one gross rather uncouth Corporal who was supposed to teach us to fix bayonets. He said "When I says Fix, you whips it out and whops it on" which wasn't very explicit. We did guard duty at night along the beaches north of Aberdeen in case of invasion by the enemy. It always seemed my turn when it was pitch black, a howling gale.- rain lashing down until I was soaked to the skin and water was sloshing in my boots. I thought I could not be more miserable and if an invasion had come, I doubt if I would have been much use in stopping them.

One day I was posted as Orderly Corporal and in fact all the orderly NCO's for the day were all named McKay or Mackay, from the Sgt Majors down. So when we reported to the Orderly Officer who was in the officers mess, the Sgt Major said to the mess servant II tell the Orderly Officer the McKay's are here".

It seems to have been a family trait - quite willing to accept responsibility and a preference to giving orders but not so good at taking them. There is in my Uncle Walter's possession documents regarding one William Mackay who was transferred from the second Battalion Caithness Legion to Colonel Camerons Regiment in 1799. There is also his discharge paper from His Majesty's Lockaber Regiment of Fencible Infantry in 1802 when he was a Sergeant Major.

One member of the family served in the 93rd Regiment of Foot and was at the siege of Sebastopol in the Crimea War 1855. In 1800 the 93rd were Sutherland Highlanders raised almost entirely of Men of the Countess of Sutherland Estates.

A James McKay in 1763 lived at Goldspie in Sutherland and was believed to be a game keeper or such for the Countess of Sutherland. There were however two other James McKay's in that region and owing to the poor records it was not possible to trace any further back on the family because of this confusion.

Eventually we were considered trained and we were posted to the 1st Battalion the Gordon Highlanders, who were righting in France and badly in need of reinforcements. Headed by a Pipe Band playing "Will ye no come back again" we marched to Aberdeen docks to the ship. But we did come back, for the 1st Battalion had been practically wiped out fighting a rearguard action at Dunkirk.
Instead of becoming a Gordon Highlander I was at long last sent to the 2nd Battalion the London Scottish which was stationed in the South of England. It was considered to be an Officer producing Unit and the time came when applications for Commissions were request ed. I was however a relatively poor man and I had doubts as to whether I could live up to an officers style. Then I realised that of course the pay was much better so I asked my Sergeant for advice. He said "Its like this, 2nd Lieutenants and Lance Corporals are the biggest casualties in the Army - 2nd Lieutenants because they are too daft to duck and Lance Corporals because they are so busy telling the daft so and sos to duck". As I was still a Lance Corporal I didn't think it was much of a choice. Anyway I left it for a while until I had been promoted to Sergeant when I thought to myself that if I couldn't be a better Officer than most of our new lot or officers I'd eat my helmet. Especially when one of them prodded me with his walking stick and said" You, what ever your name is, send Some men to 'move kit". Resisting the urge to push his stick right down his throat I said to myself " I don't have to take that from anyone and I have had enough". So I marched straight to the office and applied for a commission.

I was soon posted to a holiday camp where there were a large number of men awaiting a posting to an O.C.T.U. Officer Cadet Training Unit. There I became pally with another Sergeant George Harris who like me had applied for a commission on impulse. The Army doesn't like a lot of men idling about so fatigues were invented to keep us all busy. Some bright spark thought that digging tank traps would keep us busy. Geo and I, as Sergeants, felt we were past all that sort of thing and looked for some way to dodge the digging. I spotted some screwdrivers in one of the stores and was able to borrow a couple. Geo and I always fell in at the rear so that as the working party were marched off we were able to "drop off" and enter one of the huts. There we quickly unscrewed some braces that stopped the bunk beds from swinging about. If anyone came, we were, of course, busy repairing the bunk beds, screwing the braces back on. No one knew all the jobs that had been handed out and so we got away with it for about ten days until our long awaited posting came through. There were several Training Units in various parts of the country but we found out that there was one at Douglas, in the Isle of Man, another place I'd never been.

There was quite a merry party on the top deck of the Ship as we sailed across to Douglas but rapidly faded from sight one by one as that confounded sea sickness took its toll.

We were billeted in a large hotel on the sea front at Douglas, all the hotels had been taken over by the Army. Names were called out in alphabetical order from the list as men were allocated to each room of the building. The large rooms that had been the lounges and dining rooms took twenty and the numbers per room were progressively less as the rooms became smaller on each succeeding floor. To our surprise and concern Geo Harris was not called with the "H's" and even more surprised when I was not called with the "M's".

The only room left was an attic room and we were allocated that. It transpired that both Geo and I were late additions to the list. We were delighted to be able to stay together and even have a room to ourselves until we saw all the stairs. The lifts were permanently out of order.

Training was very arduous indeed and Geo and I wondered if we had made a mistake, especially when we faced our final endurance tests. One such test I remember well was to run a mile in full kit in a certain number of minutes along Douglas Promenade. I did it alright with much gasping and sore feet, from pounding along the Pink coloured asphalt. I'd never before seen coloured asphalt, only black, but I was to hear more about it a few years later.

We passed our tests and were now Infantry Officers. We reflected even while we celebrated that an Infantry Man's life was likely to be very hard, very uncomfortable and very short. So when a notice appeared on the board asking for volunteers for a special unit using some new weapon in close support of Infantry, we ignored the old Soldiers advice "Never volunteer for anything" and put our names down. We thought we would be comfortable riding rather than marching on our feet, even if we were to get killed just the same. The old Soldiers could have said "We told you so" for we were commissioned into different regiments and never saw each other again.

The weapon turned out to be a 20mm Quick Firing Gun for use against low flying aircraft. I was posted to the Middlesex Regiment, a Vickers Machine Gun and Heavy Mortar Unit. So as a brand new, rather nervous Officer I reported to a camp near Salisbury in the south of England. There seemed to be no sign of life but eventually I found the Orderly Officer of the day who informed me that they were all out on an exercise. The Orderly officer was Eric Admanson who gave me a friendly welcome and invited me to share his tent. I can't say that the rest of the officers were as welcoming. In fact I found the Senior Regulars, but mostly the Senior T.A. Officers strangely enough, looked down on wartime officers, especially those from the ranks. Eric and I became firm friends although he worked with the heavy mortars and I with the 20 Mm Orelikons or Hispanos.

After Eric "blacked out" most of the south coast by hitting a major power line with one of his practise Mortar bombs we were banished to Scotland where we could do less damage. Eric and I were billeted in the cold empty attic room of the old Barony near Dumfries. An attic room again - you can see I was determined to get to the top. We set up our own camp beds and shivered. There was an open fireplace - small iron affair but with no fuel. We were under orders not to chop down trees, there were very few about anyway. During one of our exercises we found a dead tree, about 7-8 metres long with a fairly thick trunk. We Smuggled it into our room, thinking we could easily break up a piece of dead wood. The small branches went alright and we had a fire going, but the trunk resisted our efforts so we just put the end in the fire. As it burned away we pushed it further in, we could lie on our camp beds and give it a good push for it lay on the floor between them. It wasn't a good fire but it took the chill off the room.

The scope of our exercises now increased to full Brigade level and I found that I was to work in close support of the 1st Battalion of the Kings Own Scottish Borderers. We hauled our 200mm gun around on their improvised mountings getting very despondent for nothing seemed to go right. Oerlikon guns, Hispano , ammunition - then the other way around, but we finally got it right. Not long before "D" day - the day of the second Front landings in Normandy it was realised that owing to the extremely fast rate of fire of our 20mm guns it would require several 3 ton trucks to carry enough ammunition. There just would not be enough space in the available landing craft to fit us in and so the scheme was scrapped.
Eric stayed with his mortars but I had to be returned to Infantry Pool of spare bods for I knew nothing of Mortars or Vicker Machine Gun. So there I was after all that volunteering and training, back where I started in the Pool available for any Regiment that was under strength.

A few days later I was told to report to the Colonel of the 1st Battalion K.O.S.B. together with some others from the pool. Each were interviewed and questioned as to their antecedents, schooling etc. All the Colonel asked me was "which unit were you with before you were commissioned?". When I told him I had been a Sergeant in the London Scottish he said "splendid! we have seen you working in close support of the Battalion on recent exercises and we are short of officers, we would like you to join us.鈥�

I came away from the interview feeling pleased - well its always nice to be wanted. But a few moments later I said to myself "what have you done, the Second Front is coming up and its sure to be 1st battalion K.O.S.B. leading. Still its better the devil you know, than one you don't know so makee the best of it". I was duly posted to the K.O.S.B. and was appointed 2nd I/C the carrier platoon.

That is Bren gun carriers, with caterpillar tracks to cross any sort of ground, so apparently I wasn't going to have to walk after all. The Colonel mistakenly thought that I knew all about Vickers machine guns and he hoped to acquire some from somewhere, to increase the fire power. Luckily he didn't manage to pinch any for I knew very little about them.

After several Divisional exercises the Battalion moved down to an area not far from Southampton. There we were to be equipped with new carriers, where needed and the old worn out ones to be collected together, either for scrap or future cannibalism. I was sent to Havant station to receive a train load of old carriers which were to be moved to a dump about 10 miles away. I found that only 2/3rds of the carriers were able to be driven and those that wouldn't go were to be towed. A tracked vehicle is turned by stopping one track on which it spins while the outside track drives. Of my towing carriers three were unable to turn left but could turn right. It was necessary therefore to take off the tow rope, spin right practically in a full circle until it was facing the required way then re-attach the tow rope and proceed. We only knocked down one lamp post leaving Havant and carried on in clouds of blue exhaust smoke and even bluer language. It had been laid down that all Army transport had to stick to a one way route laid out in a figure of eight that stretched out over 40 miles. I was bringing these old carriers up the left hand lower part of the eight but my destination was on the upper left hand part of the eight which meant that I had to go right on around the upper part of the eight to get to it. This was some 20 miles and was more than these old carriers would do without breaking down possibly permanently. When I reached the cross over of the eight I could see the gates to the dump about 4-500 yards up the no entry road. There being no traffic about I decided to chance it and make a dash for the dump, if "dash" was applicable to our unsteady progress. A very young Military Policeman private came up to stop us but I'm afraid I pulled rank and told him I was going through no matter what, stating that we had not enough petrol to go right round the other way. The latter was quite true and I thought it doubtful if another 2 miles even could have been covered by these wrecks. We made it into the dump and I thought no more about it, but I was to be reminded about it later.

The great day came when Field Marshall Montgomery came to a cinema where all the Divisional Officers where assembled to meet him. After the usual preliminaries the great Field Marshall rose to address us and showed who was going to be boss right away.
"I will not have any Battalion Commander who has not yet seen action and therefore Col So-So and Col So-So and Col So- So are relieved of their Commands from Now!"
There was an audible gasp from the assembly, it was quite a shock, as no doubt he intended it to be. He then laid down the law or the Law according to Monty, about what he expected of us and told us what we might expect to face. Discipline, particularly in the movement of vehicles on the roads was to be strictly enforced. Then he said 鈥淭here is one officer' here who ignored my express orders on the matter just recently, unfortunately I do not know who it is or I would deal with him severely"! By this time I was trying to hide, but thankful that my identity was not known.

As I expected the plan of battle for the Second Front was that the 1st Battalion K.D.S.B. would be leading. We had been training for this invasion for months, landing in all conditions so that we would be prepared for anything. I remember an exercise in Scotland when the Regiment was taken out to sea in flat bottomed landing craft. We were off the coast of Scotland near Inverness when a storm blew up and we had to ride out the night in extreme discomfort. I was seasick during the night and when our craft collided with another I could hear water trickling in. I thought will we sink? But I couldn't care less, I felt too ill to care. After the storm the sea subsided enough to risk the landing. The idea was that the landing craft would run as far up the beach as possible and then we would go down a ramp and wade the rest. I was acting as a platoon officer infantry, the carriers were not on the exercise. My orders were to get ashore and secure the crossroads at the top of a hill. My platoon were lined up ready, boots off and hanging around our necks to keep them dry. The skipper of the boat said "Don't worry lads I'll run right up the beach". As it was now snowing we thought that a good idea. But when the craft shuddered to a halt there was still 30 yards of water. It must have hit a sand bar and I didn't like the look of' it at all. Down the ramp I went and down in the water until I was up to my neck. Fortunately we were all wearing "Mae West's" an inflated tube around our chests. The trouble was that these things stopped us getting our feet firmly on the bottom and or only tip toe at that. We all carried so much gear that it was impossible to swim. I was tall compared with some or the chaps and I had to tow them to places where they could fend for themselves. Happily we all got ashore - no one lost their boots 颅and away we went.

The snow in the meantime kept railing and we had to run up and down to keep our circulation going. It was the only time I saw men happily digging slit trenches - it was that or freeze to death. After the exercise we were transported by truck to start our journey south. That was the nearest that I have been to the ancestral home - Goldspie - not far from Inverness, so at least I have seen a signpost pointing the way to it!

Three days later I was at Liverpool as part or an advance party travelling south. I had not had my clothes off in all that time. While getting some money out to pay for a drink in the Pub, I found all the coins in my pocket had turned green due to the salt water. I pointed to my Glengarrie and told the Barmaid "I don't often pay ye ken!"

D Day was getting very near, I was ordered to take half the Carrier Platoon to Wanstead Flats and be ready to embank on a ship at the East India Docks. The other half Platoon would go from Southampton. Something to do with not putting "all the baskets in one egg! "With Me were half the Anti Tank Gun Carriers loaded to the top with ammunition in fact they had even loaded as many shells as possible on my carriers. At the Docks the loading officer and the officer in charge of all troops in the ship together with myself were to go and meet the Dockers representative to discuss loading. We said we must be all aboard in two days. Oh no! said the docker "we can't do it"
"Ok" we said "we will supply one hundred men" 'to assist". "If you do that we will strike" said the dockers! Out came our revolvers "We will shoot the first one who does or all of you and do the job ourselves" There were no more threats of strikes!.

We asked to look in a locked warehouse-"I can鈥檛 unlock that" said the docker, "I鈥檓 going off shift" "shoot the lock off, so I pulled out my revolver and the key was promptly produced. Which was just as well as we hadn鈥檛 any ammunition between the lot of us.

The ship on which I was to load my carriers turned out to be Collier and while it was relatively easy to put the carriers on board using the dock cranes the real problem was were the Colliers derricks strong enough to lower the carriers over side into the landing craft. Our carriers were loaded to maximum and it was going to be touch and go as to whether derricks would break under the strain. Especially if sea conditions were rough and if we were being shelled and bombed at the time. Deciding that we might just manage, loading commenced, and as we pressed on. Once again the Dockers Union Rep came to complain that we were doing his union members work. We pointed out that most of us were not going on a holiday trip and in fact might never come back. Therefore we were not concerned with him or his members feelings in the matter and we were quite prepared to deal with them in the same way as we hoped to deal with the Germans. Well that was the gist of the matter but it was put in rather more forcible and picturesque words. I've never gone much on Dockers since!. We loaded everything by the required time and then sailing time was delayed due to bad weather in the Channel. Having wound ourselves up to fever pitch, this delay, are we going or aren't we? lowered our spirits somewhat. At last we were off and out in the Channel we went, ships and landing craft, as far as the eye could see. All was quiet hour after hour, surely they would spot us soon. We scan the skies, looking for a crowd of Bombers but nothing happened. It was a wonderful sight to see row upon row of ships. landing craft and amongst us the Royal Navy ships, shepherding their flock. From all the South Coast ports more ships and craft of all shapes and sizes joined us until at last we sighted land. Over head R.A.F. planes streamed ahead and we could hear the continuous burst of bombs. The heavy guns of the R.N poured shell after shell into the coastal defences. Rocket ships sent their deadly cargo in great salvos that even frightened us and we thanked God we were not at the receiving end.

Suddenly it was not all one way, shells started to fall amongst the ships sending up great sprouts of water or what was worse, bits and pieces of landing craft together with the men in them. First ashore were Royal Engineers trying to clear beaches of mines and other ghastly traps. Then the Battalion infantry companies landed and their landing barges came back for us. The noise was deafening, two cruisers were just behind us firing broadsides over our heads and a rocket ship close by. Up went my carrier, the ships derrick shuddered. we could well hear its creaks and groans in spite of the general noise going on. The landing craft looked very small and was bobbing about like a cork. However were we going to get the carrier down there. If the derrick failed we'd go straight down through the landing craft for certain. As soon as that landing craft was filled another came to take off some more but was hit amid ships by a bomb and sank immediately other craft were milling around endeavouring to get everyone ashore. By now the beach was littered with debris, broken craft and bodies.

At last the ramp of my craft crashed down on the beach and I went ashore-never even got my tracks wet - so much for all that dreadful wet landing techniques that we endured! While I was assembling my carriers as they came ashore a Military Policeman said to me "Look out for the snipers ahead Sir' My seat was filled with spare anti tank shells so I could not get the protection of the carrier around me but was perched up on the top so I thought I'll just have to risk it.

Marvellous plans had been drawn up showing where the Battalion hoped to be at the end of the Day 1 Day 2 and Day 3 if we lasted that long. So I duly set off with my half troop of carriers to join the infantry platoons. But as Robbie Burns said "the best laid plans of mice and men oft gang aglay", and I was informed by the Military Policeman at a crossroads that they were last heard of some miles to the right. By this time other stray vehicles were attaching themselves to my column thinking I must have known where I was going. The next day I arrived at the position last known, only to find the Battalion had moved further on still. I was now leading a long convoy of the Battalions trucks that had thankfully attached themselves to me having been completely lost.
As I had four 3 tonners loaded with ammunition I was anxious to arrive before the infantry platoons ran out of bullets and before someone dropped a bomb on the trucks blowing us all to Kingdom Come. During the night I found some real information and linked up with the rest of the Battalion to everyone's relief.
That journey was not so uneventful as it sounds for all the way we were in the middle of death and destruction. Many times we had to pull in under trees to hide from bombing attacks or wait for a shelling bombardment of a road to cease but by guess and by God we had made it. The other half of the carrier platoon had not been so lucky nor had the other ancillary vehicles that had followed them. That was the start of a theory held by many O.Rs that as long as they were with Me they would be fairly safe. When I went ashore I was a First Lieutenant, second in command, the officer in charge carriers was a Captain. He was a nice chap younger than I and had passed with distinction on all the carrier training courses he had been on. He had brought the other half of carrier platoon from Southampton and as I have said ran into some trouble before we all linked up. All his careful training went for nothing as he had an accident, a carrier spun catching the back of his leg. It wasn't a bad injury but he could only hobble and was glad to report to the casualty station from where he was sent back to England.

Now I was D/C carriers and a bit concerned as I had no training on the tactical use of carriers. I was confident that I could work it out, just common sense and I had plenty of good NCO's to assist me. It wasn't long before I realised that the Colonel knew very little about them for he made no use of us when even I could see the possibilities. We seemed to be relegated to bringing ammunition, food and water to the Companies, and to taking out the wounded. This put us at just as much risk as if we were engaging the enemy direct. Our tracked vehicles were the only way these items could be conveyed over some of the country that had been turned into seas of mud by the continual rain. The stretcher bearers were equipped with jeeps, but where the situation got really rough, send for McKay and his carriers. One such place was when the companies advanced across some cornfields into a wood on the far side. The Royal Artillery spotting officer stood with me watching the advance. "Look at them" he said "just walking over there as if they were going to a soccer match" the hail of Spandau bullets cutting them down. I could weep for them, they are magnificent." and clearly he was overcome with emotion.

The C.O sent me a signal, bring in water, rations etc and take out wounded urgent! They had had a difficult time crossing this open ground being under fire all the way. The Lincolns were on our left and they too were pinned down in the wood. Attempts to reach them by various vehicles had failed, for I could see several of them including a few tanks that had been knocked out. Cautiously using what folds in the ground there were I nearly reached the wood when I saw ahead of me a group of knocked out tanks etc. Suddenly I realised that it must be a target area that Jerry had pinpointed and I was just about to enter it. I hit my driver and yelled 鈥榮werve鈥� and as we did so I felt the compression of air as a shell passed the side of the carrier. Our carrier hardly touched the ground over the last bit into the wood where we were relatively safe. One of my friends there said "I might have known it was you? no one else would have got away with it"
The Canadians on our right assured me it was even worse over there for Jerry had two 88"s covering that approach. So I had to inform the Colonel that I would have to come in at night as quietly as possible? which isn't very quiet where a tracked vehicle is concerned. My driver, McNab, was still shaking when I told him we were going back and flatly refused. So I had to point out that we would be suddenly into the target area on the way back and Jerry would not have time to put his mug of tea down, take aim etc before we would be through it and over the hill. Off we went, at a speed no carrier had achieved before or since and as I had predicted no shot was fired. The nightly trips taking water, rations and ammunition into our lines proved very hazardous for the enemy shelled everywhere he thought the noise was coming from. We were very unpopular with the Units we had to pass through for of course they were receiving the shells making casualties for them. Luckily I only lost one man. This went on for five or six nights before the Division launched an attack to drive the enemy back. That sort of thing was repeated many times and I was on the go all day and night, catching up a bit of sleep where possible.

We fought our way to Caen, the Battalion suffering heavy casualties. I was asked by the Colonel to take my carriers as fast as possible across a bare hillside to outflank the enemy still holding out in a small wood. As we dashed across there was a rain of shells right on us. As I looked back the following carrier was blown to a halt by the blast from a shell, but just as the engine was about to stall another shell landed behind it and blew it on again. I couldn't see the others for smoke and shell burst debris but when we arrived in position I discovered that a shell had landed neatly between each carrier and the only casualty was a driver with a split lip. We immediately commenced firing doing a lot of damage and enabled the Battalion to wipe out any resistance.

The R.A.F came that night to Caen, the first 1000 Bomber raid and we were very close to the target. almost too close. I saw chucks of masonry flying over head, we were covered with a grey dust and grit. To have been in Caen must have been a terrifying experience, we were frightened enough, hoping no one would drop his bombs short. At first light the Infantry Platoons made their way into commanding positions in the ruins under cover of clouds of dust.
I received a call from the C.O., try and find some way of ferrying food and water and ammunition into the various companies. I set off on foot, there was no way to wheel a bicycle through, let alone vehicles. I met a man running from the Cathedral, miraculously the only place left standing, he turned out to be an R.A.F. pilot who had been shot down sometime before and had been hiding in the Cathedral. "Am I glad to see you" he said "What shall I do now?" So I told him to get going while the going was good, before Jerry counter attacked us. A bit further on I was suddenly surrounded by civilians who were coming out of their cellars in a very angry frame of mind. "why you do this? there were no Germans here!" I thought they were going to lynch me so I expressed my condolences as well as I could and pressed on. I think Caen was bombed flat to make an impenetrable barrier for the Panzer tanks, to prevent them pushing us back into the sea. Unfortunately it was a barrier for us also. As I passed the Dock area a bullet whizzed past my left ear followed quickly by another past my right ear. I did not wait for the third one but dived behind a chunk of masonry and fell into a cellar full of wine bottles. While I was struggling to find a way out I heard Sgt Craig calling my name. He had seen me go down and thought I was hit. When he saw the wine bottles his eyes nearly popped out and he was almost in tears when he found they were empty.

There followed days of intense fighting and shelling, scenes I'll never forget and hope you'll never see. We put in an attack in broad daylight, in close country, numerous hedges, where it would have been difficult to use my Bren Carriers to good effect. The Colonel took the Bren crews however to bolster up the various Companies. I was left in charge of H.Q with just the drivers and my batman. The attack was a disaster, the casualties very heavy, even the M.O. had his arm blown off when a mortar bomb landed right in our casualty clearing station. I marshalled all the stretcher bearers and jeeps to send the wounded away as quickly as they were brought in by the retreating Companies. I loaded 8 officers on to jeeps. When I ran out of jeeps I loaded up my carriers, it was better to have a rough ride to safety and treatment .

Then the Colonel arrived, his arm in a sling and blood all over his face, shouting Capt McKay - Capt McKay - get all your men up on the ridge to hold a counter attack! I assured him I would and packed him off in one of the jeeps that had returned. All my men, that was a laugh, all I had with me was Stebbings my batman! "Come an Stebbings" I said" We will hold up the German Army together" One of the wounded officers I collected was my great friend Donald Grey - ex Film Star. He had had a star part in the Film Four Feathers, now he had his arm severed by Spandau fire.
After the war he became a TV announcer but died about ten years ago. To my great relief nearly all my Bren teams survived and we regrouped until we were pulled out of the line for rest and maintenance.

That's enough of the horrors of war - but I would like to tell you some of the funny things that happened. After the slaughter of the German Army in the Falaise Gap we made rapid advances in pursuit and I was sent out on our right flank to comb large areas to see if there were any pockets of Germans that had not retreated with the rest. My men liked this for we came to deserted farms where there were usually eggs to be found. At one farm the kitchen was very large with great big cupboards from floor to ceiling. Two of the men were skylarking about when the smallest one hammered on the nearest cupboard door, put up his fists in a boxer stance and shouted "Come on out you bastard! "
To his horror the door opened and an SS man came out, he was twice his size - I don't know who which was the more frightened.
At another farm I found some eggs and was walking round the building with both hands full of eggs when I came face to face with a German wringing a chickens neck! Both of us retreated hastily round the building grimly hanging on to our spoils unable to use our weapons.
In the hard winter of 1944 I often found myself dressed in a white snow suit leading a night patrol out in front of our lines looking for enemy positions. I've never been afraid of the dark, something to do with the night hikes I used to do as a Boy Scout perhaps. Most of the patrol was very tense and scared as well they might be and became worse when during a halt we heard the tell tail swish of trouser legs passing one another and apparently coming straight towards us. I'd noticed that we were by a field of cabbages, one side of each cabbage showed dark where the snow had blown off so I settled the patrol down like another row so that if our faces showed it would seem like more cabbages. Some of them were a little green looking anyway! The swishing stopped, perhaps they had heard us, then it started up again only going away. So we all were able to breathe again. When I judged it safe to move off I took about three steps and fell through the Snow into a slit trench. As I murmured "Never a dull moment" they pulled me out and the tension was eased for they were all stumbling about trying to stifle their laughter. We were not always so lucky on these night patrols. I'd always thought the stars were friendly twinkling lights far away, but on night patrols they seemed to glow like searchlights and we were sure they would make it easier for the enemy to spot us. As for a full moon - well you can imagine, it seemed like daylight. On the other hand a cloudy sky made it difficult to find our way about in the pitch-dark. One such night it was my turn to be Duty Officer at H.Q. which was in the middle of a wood. It was so dark I could literally not see my hand if I held it up before me. I left my platoon area and was able to find my way along a. track and through a gateway into a field adjoining the wood. I had passed through the gateway when I sensed or saw out of the corner of my eye the form of someone standing by the wall at the gate. I moved quietly over towards him and saw it was one of 'B鈥� Platoon Are you sentry here?" I asked him, "Yes Sir"
"Well why didn't you challenge me as I approached?"
"Knew it was you sir - nobody else walks about here in the dark on their own!"
I made my way across the field and was trying to find a landmark by bending down and looking up to see if I could spot the line of a barn roof against the sky. Suddenly I became aware of the swish swish of trouser legs passing each other and apparently coming straight for me. Was it one of our patrols or one of theirs. I stood stock-still, perhaps they would not see me. In fact I knew it was so dark they could not see me. They came steadily on and I realised that in another two or three strides they would walk straight into me. I still was unable to see them. If I moved they would hear me and might shoot and ask afterwards. So I challenged them and heard the gasp of indrawn breath at the shock of hearing a challenge in the middle or nowhere. Luckily it was one of our patrols - lost - so in the end delighted to find someone who could give them some idea of where they where. "God you frightened the life out of us" the Sergeant said "what would you have done if we had been the enemy, they might have fired at you"
They would have missed for I wasn't still standing in the same place for I'd ducked smartly away as I finished the challenge!

The Colonel always insisted that whenever our advance was halted slit trenches should be dug for protection, but when our advance became rapid and halts very short we didn't bother relying on the protection of our carriers. The Division was advancing on a wide front across a great plain and at a halt I was called to an Orders Group. The Brigadier was there looking around at our troops.
"Well then Capt McKay I see your men are digging in, you have them well trained" he said, "Yes Sir, thank you Sir"
I thought what are they up to now, I'm sure they are not digging slit trenches. I went back after orders to my carriers and while passing on orders to my Sergeants I happened to put my hand on one of the sandbags that were fastened on to the front of each carrier as additional protection and felt. They seemed to be full or stones not sand. All the bags were the same so I asked Sgt Craig what the devil was going on.
"Tatties Sir!"
Apparently we were in a potato field and they hoped to supplement their rations in due course. Sgt Craig said "We will never be able to pull anything over you Sir, to see everything!" They had emptied out the sand and filled all the bags with their potatoes.

I've forgotten to mention that about two months previous I was caught in the blast of a mortar shell and was struck on the leg just below the knee by debris. I lost some skin and was severely bruised. Since I could ride in the carrier I remained on duty and had my leg dressed each day. Several days later when I was having the dressing changed a Colonel of the R.M.C. appeared and asked when it had happened and had I registered it as a war wound, if not to do it right away. So I did as I was told but unfortunately my Mother received a telegram telling her I had been wounded, but was still on duty. This was a shock for her so soon after my Father died - she feared to open the telegram for fear of the content. Actually I escaped death by inches on many occasions and was considered to have a charmed life.

We smashed our way through the Seigfried Line, the German fortifications built as an answer to the French Maginot Line.
One day the Colonel said" I want you to take over "A" Company and leave your beloved carriers"
I wasn't very keen but as he said "you'll be made up to Major" I agreed. Well I don't suppose I could have refused.
"You will have to act as Second I/C for a few days until the present Major is posted to Brigade H.9."
So here I was at last having to march on my feet and unable to hide. There had been a popular song entitled "We'll hang out the washing on the Siegfried line" and after we had smashed our way through this impressive line of fortifications the Army put up a great. big road sign reading "This is the Siegfried Line" A little further on another sign "And this is the washing", indicating a collection of old tattered clothes hung high on a line, but it seemed very doubtful if they had ever been washed.

The Battalion put in a night attack and A Company moved off under a barrage of heavy artillery and Bofers guns firing tracer shells in a flat trajectory just over our heads. We all hoped that they would know how fast we were advancing for we did not want to arrive at the target area at the same time as the Bofers shells.
The traces streaming overhead were rather frightening, normally the Vickers machine guns fire overhead but their trace bullets were quite small in comparison. All went well until we came suddenly to a high bank with no way round. No one wished to climb it for the tracers seemed to be clearing it by inches. Of course it was not inches but even so only about a couple of feet or so.
I had to climb up and sit there to encourage the men to climb up and roll over the other side. I thought I was going to get my hair parted and I was sure I could feel the heat of the burning tracers. The enemy presumably decided that they had had enough and we secured our objective without much trouble.

Twice I was able to stop a full Divisional attack planned with plenty of artillery etc with rather nasty prospects for the infantry. My patrols were able to find no trace of the enemy at the target area and so I telephoned Brigade who informed Division and so on. This must have saved the poor tax payer a lot or money - shells are very expensive. The planning of these proposed attacks involving infantry, tanks, artillery etc took a lot of somebody's time and careful thought, so when I rang up a third time and said "Don鈥檛 fire on so and so village area, I've just occupied it, the Brigade Major was almost annoyed instead of being pleased and grumbled that I might have told him earlier, so I felt that my efforts were not going to get the recognition that they deserved.

The Great day came when we at last reached the Rhine. One of the Highland Divisions forced the Rhine crossing and the Engineers put up a Bailey Bridge. Immediately Tanks and other essential vehicles poured across nose to tail. There appeared to be no room for Infantry so some bright spark put planks across the projecting struts on the outside of the bridge and we were sent across balancing on bouncing single planks not fastened in any way. The Rhine is a wide fast flowing river and the water looked menacing, cold and black beneath us. I was leading the way when to my surprise I found there were no more planks for the last few yards. There was nothing for it but to climb up over the side of the bridge and take our chance in the traffic. Since we were carrying everything we could lay our hands on it was not very easy but we made it. The enemy was retreating rapidly but left large box mines every few yards along the road. We were sent on "Advance to Contact" which means we went along until we got a bang on the nose then we would know we had found him. It was safer to carefully step over these mines it, the road, they were just visible in the dark than to go round them for Jerry had a nasty habit of putting antipersonnel mines in the verges. After about two miles or this we came to a small river, the bridge was . blown, the banks steep. Someone stepped on a Antipersonnel mine and there were a number of casualties, including me as I had just arrived. I was hit in the side of my left knee and I thought at first I'd just been hit by a stone. Then it became obvious that I could not carry on, so I found a piece of wood for a crutch. All the stretcher bearers had departed with the other casualties. I hobbled back over the box mines until I met our impatient transport who were following the R.E鈥檚 as they lifted the mines. I was whisked off to the nearest hospital together with all the other casualties and was left sitting on a trolley in the corridor outside the Operating Theatre. A surgeon came out and leaned exhaustedly against the wall. He looked at me and I could tell he was thinking "Oh God here's another one!" When he had sufficiently recovered he looked at my X rays and said 鈥淎h a bullet through the buttocks!" I pointed out that I would hardly be sitting up on this trolley, I'd be lying on my stomach or some such forceful words to that effect. There followed a lot of frantic scurrying about until the right X rays were found and I was taken into the Ops room.

After the Op. I was flown to a hospital near Brussels where once again I was put in the operating theatre. I said I'd had my operation but they said 鈥淲ell we'll have a look anyway.鈥� When we did I nearly fell off the table, for there was a gash nearly 3 inches wide open and I could see the white of bone. They explained it was necessary to make such a cut to ensure they had found all the metal bits but had left the chip knocked off the bone still in there as it would cause too much damage to find it.
It鈥檚 still there. So they sewed me up, filled me with Penicillin and flew me to England along with a large number of other stretcher cases. I ended up at Basingstoke Hospital in a ward full of amputation cases. I felt that I was practically malingering compared to them and when my plaster cast enabled me to move about I spent my time helping these poor fellows. My plaster cast was from my ankle to the top of my thigh and seemed to weigh a ton. Sitting on the toilet was very difficult, I used to use a walking stick to hold my foot and leg up by hooking it round my foot and holding the end with both hands. Eventually I was discharged from hospital on sick leave. My Mother was able to get priority replacement of window glass blown out by flying bomb blast, because of her poor wounded son coming home at last.

When my sick leave finished I was still not considered fit for normal duties and in any case it was obvious that the war with Germany was nearly over. I was posted to the Army Barracks in Newport. Monmouthshire to assist an Army Welfare Officer. a Colonel John, one of a chain of voluntary workers given courtesy rank. My assistance would make it easier for him to get back into his own business full time. I became the Welfare Officer for Monmouthshire (now Gwent). A British Ex Champion Heavyweight boxer named Jack Peterson was appointed to Glamorganshire. A very nice chap too gentlemanly to be a fighter which was probably why he wasn't a champion for long. About that same time I met Jimmy Wild an old Flyweight Champion of world class. I also met a number of well known Football players (soccer) for Col John was chairman of Newport County F.C that usually played in the third or fourth Division of the English Football league. I travelled with Col John to the away matches and sat with him in the Directors box pretending I was a Director too! I also organised dances and fetes and other fund raising events for the Benefit of the Soldiers. Sailors and Airmen's Association. At these events I met a girl or two, but most of them turned out to be somebody's wife waiting for him to come home from overseas or else much too young for me. The war was now over. V.E. day was celebrated, that was Victory in Europe, with great jubilation.
The day came at last when I received orders to report to Albany Street barracks for Demobilisation. There all the paper work was completed and I was out of the Army. All that was left was to go to the White City Stadium where I would be issued with Civilian Clothes. There wasn't much choice but eventually I was fitted out - well the suit fitted where it touched! I walked out with my new clothes in a bag and stood there wondering what do I do now! A taxi pulled -up and the driver said "where to Sir?" I didn't know, anyway I got in and said "Regent Street" the first thing I could think of.

Its hard to explain how I felt - completely lost and devastated. No plans for the future, which was stupid of me of course, and a problem about where to live. My brother Charles had married but was living with my mother in her house so there really wasn't room for me also. I would be welcome for a week or so naturally but I felt I would be in the way before long. So it was a great relief to me when I was asked by the War office to accept a civilian appointment as Welfare Officer for Monmouthshire. My mother, who had been delighted to have me home at last and still in one piece in spite of those worrying telegrams, did not like the idea at all. However I accepted and returned to Newport and my old "digs" with George and Rene Pritchard. I continued as Welfare Officer for about 18 months when the job was reduced to part time. To keep me there Col John offered me part time work in his business, dealing with accounts.

One day I went to Lovell's Cafe for a cup of coffee and sat at the same table as the Manageress who was having a coffee break herself. We chatted for a while and somehow I knew right away that I had found the one for me. So I pursued the acquaintance each day and eventually invited her out. To my delight she took up my invitation and we had an enjoyable time finding out about one another. Her name was Eileen Goodwin - ex Flight Lieutenant WRAF. Eileen had been catering officer for a very large area indeed. The particular area concerned was Balloon Command. There were Barrage Balloons permanently tethered over places that might be considered to be bombing targets - Anti aircraft emplacements, docks, power stations etc. The idea was that it prevented low level precision" bombing. These balloon sites were "manned" by the women of the WRAF. Eileen had been responsible for the catering of all sites in a very large area including Scapa Flow. Her efforts were recognized by the award of an "oak leaf" symbol for 鈥渕entioned in despatches". The reputation Eileen had built up had been brought to the notice of Harold Lovell who made it his business to obtain her services to reorganize his cafes. At the time I met her she was temporarily acting as Manageress in the Newport Cafe.

Lovell's' was a family firm, a large well known manufacturer of sweets, particularly toffees, and they also had a number of cafe's. Harold Lovell had been seeking a supervisor for his cafes for sometime. Someone recommended Eileen, and when he saw her record of service he was determined to persuade Eileen to work for him. He was not very pleased when Eileen accepted my proposal of marriage.

Eileen's father, Harold Goodwin was a scientist who among other things had invented or discovered a method of colouring asphalt instead of the usual black. One of the earliest applications of this invention was laid on the Promenade at Douglas, Isle of Man!

The pinkish coloured asphalt that I had, had to run a mile in full kit as before mentioned! Unfortunately the distractions of the war years together with some sharp practice by the manufactu颅ring companies prevented him from reaping the rewards of his dis颅covery. His genes however, must have passed on to my eldest son Andrew, who is now himself a Doctor of Science.

Eileen's mother, Dorothy Goodwin, who as I write this is still living having passed her 90th birthday, is a highly intelligent, attractive, determined woman with a special love of music. Had she pursued a musical career after taking her London degree she would have probably become a first class concert pianist, but the birth of two daughters fully occupied her time, and perhaps after all that may have been as great a joy as a musical career. Sadly her musical ability has not been passed on to our children, her other attributes have been.

Extract of WW2 experiences from his full memories as written in 1983

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