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I was working as a bus driver on the London buses in l939 when it became obvious from news reports that war was imminent. I had been in the Territorial Army for about a year, so on 3 May 1939 I decided to join the regular Army and went to the local drill hall to sign up. I ended up in the RASC (Royal Army Service Corps) as T.86307 Driver, Collier T.

To France and Belgium, then back to Dunkirk

War broke out in September that year, and after a period of training I was sent to Europe with the British Expeditionary Force in early 1940 to fight the Germans who had invaded France and Belgium. We landed in France and went through France into Belgium. By the time we’d pushed into Belgium however, Belgium had surrendered to the Germans, and being outnumbered by the Germans, on 26 May we were ordered to retreat back into France, along with thousands of Belgian refugees.

We continued to retreat until the Germans had us trapped on the beach at Dunkirk. This was the beginning of June. Virtually the whole of the British Expeditionary Force became pinned down on the beaches as we waited to be evacuated. Hundreds of thousands of soldiers queued down the beach and into the sea to board the hundreds of small boats and ships that had come across the Channel to rescue us. While we waited, German planes bombed and machine-gunned the beaches and several times we had to scatter and dive to the ground as bombs exploded.

I got on a small boat which took me to a destroyer. Bombs were whistling overhead all the time but the captain of the destroyer kept his eye on the planes and managed to steer clear of the bombing. He had to steer so sharply sometimes that we were thrown to the side of the ship, but he was so skilled at dodging the bombs he saved the lives of everyone on board.

It was around 3 June when we disembarked at Dover harbour. It was total confusion, with all the soldiers coming off the boats. I followed some soldiers and got on a train. While on the train I heard a loud noise which I thought was a bomber, I dived under the seat for protection but it was only a passing train — I think I must have been suffering from shell shock at that time. I somehow ended up in Bradford and was billeted at Manningham Park for a while, where I was re-kitted with equipment.

Cooking in North Africa

I was then posted to go to North Africa. We embarked on a ship and after having to go miles out of our way to avoid U-boats in the Atlantic, we sailed into the Mediterranean and entered the port of Alexandria in Egypt, where we disembarked our vehicles and supplies and waited to be mobilised.

In September 1940 we formed a convoy and headed west towards the Libyan border to meet the Italians who were invading Egypt. I was corporal cook by that time. My mates called me Blondie because my hair had been bleached by the desert sun. Tinned bacon, bully beef (corned beef) and biscuits was our staple diet. I tried to be as imaginative as I could with what we had and I wrote out a menu every day for the lads.

One day I saw a young boy walking a flock of sheep, which seemed strange because there wasn’t much food for sheep in the desert — I remember one plant which smelled just like chocolate. I signalled to the boy that I’d like to swap some bully beef for one of his sheep and the boy agreed. I got someone else to kill the sheep though; I couldn’t bring myself to do that. The lamb made a welcome change from bully beef anyway.

To make a fire in the desert we would pour petrol into the sand, set fire to it and cook on the flames. There were scorpions and huge spiders in the desert, I didn’t see any snakes though. For entertainment we would catch the scorpions, make a circle of petrol, put the scorpions in the middle and the scorpions would fight eachother in their attempt to get out. It was cruel but at the time it was enjoyment for us.

Retreat from Greece

In March 1941 I was dispatched to assist our troops in Greece to repel the imminent German invasion. We landed near Athens but not long after the Germans began their push from Yugoslavia into Greece and we had to retreat. We were evacuated by the Royal Navy (HMS Thebes) and taken to Crete. During the journey to Crete we were bombed by the Germans but they missed - it wasn’t like Dunkirk when we had to dodge the bombs. I remember the ship’s guns firing and the shell cases clanging about as they hit the deck.

We disembarked in Crete harbour at Khania, the capital of Crete. HMS York was there; she had been badly damaged by bombs. We were only there about a week when the Germans invaded. This turned out to be one of the biggest airborne invasions of the War. We could see Malami Airport from the harbour, it was only a couple of miles away. I watched as paratroopers dropped onto the airport from planes and towed gliders, while other German planes bombed the rest of the area. We could see it all so plainly.

Heavily outnumbered and poorly equipped following our retreat from Greece, we were ordered to evacuate and because there were no roads we had to walk over the mountains to beaches on the opposite side of the island. Our retreat was guarded by the Black Watch Scottish Regiment. When we arrived at the beach, boats were waiting to take us to a Royal Navy warship and we sailed back to Egypt.

Tobruck

In November 1941, I joined the Eighth Army in their fight against the Germans in North Africa. Near Tobruck we were ordered to take a ridge. I told my driver Jock to hang back to the rear of the convoy, as I knew the German planes would be coming, and they did! We were unable to dig trenches because there was just a thin layer of sand covering a rocky escarpment, so we could only get underneath the wagons for protection.

When the bombing raid was over, I got out from under the wagon and I couldn’t believe my eyes. An enormous bomb, about twelve feet high had landed nose down, just ten feet from the vehicle. It had hit the rocky ground but hadn’t exploded — that bomb just didn’t have my name on it. I said to my driver 'Jock, let’s get out of here'. An officer came up to us and asked us why we were so far back, I said we’d had a problem with sand in the carburetter and we’d catch them up. He told us many of the wagons, full of troops, had taken a direct hit and the scene was disastrous. Following what was left of the convoy, we passed a Bofors gunner with his head sliced completely off — after seeing that I looked neither to the left or the right, trying just to focus on the road ahead.

After a short time in Tobruk, the enemy attacked and we were surrounded. We decided to go out through the Italian lines, driving over their tents — I don’t remember whether anyone was in them. I do remember it was a clear moonlit night and we kept course following the Milky Way. The signals lorry was tuned to the Forces Radio and we could hear 'Rose of England' being broadcast from a live concert at the Royal Albert Hall. This gave us all a boost to carry on, and to this day I get emotional when I hear the song.

We headed back for Egypt, but when we reached El Alamein the Germans and Italians made 'restralamento', and surrounded us, cutting off our retreat to Egypt and pushing us towards the Med. This would have been late 1942. I decided to go into the sea to wash the sand out of my hair, but coming out I got caught in a whirlpool and started being dragged further and further down. I couldn’t swim but something told me to doggy paddle. I don’t know what made me think of that but I started doggy paddling, my heart beating so hard in my chest I could hear it, and slowly I started to come up again.

Taken captive

The following day we had to come out of hiding and the Germans took us captive. A German officer came up to me and said, 'For you the war is over. I’ve just come back from leave. My home is in Cologne but there’s nothing left of it at all, it’s been razed to the ground.' I replied, 'The Germans started it all by invading Poland, we promised we would defend Poland and that if you attacked, we’d declare war on you. The Americans are in the war now and you have no chance of winning.' Why he didn’t pull his revolver out and shoot me I do not know.

The Germans loaded us onto wagons, and we were taken by ship to the Italian port of Taranto. When we got to Taranto the harbour had been bombed heavily and some of the Italian Navy ships had been sunk. Everyone was told to look the other way but we didn’t and we all cheered when we saw the sunken ships.

We were driven then to an Italian prisoner of war camp in Bogosso, in the province of Verona. The camp was on a hillside, almost in a valley. Walking into the camp I noticed a dwarf kidney bean plant with one bean on it — I picked it quickly and ate it before anyone else spotted it.

We slept in tents on the hillside and we had to de-louse ourselves daily. We were given a cob of bread made from chestnuts and a drink of water every morning. We received Red Cross parcels weekly — the parcels included KLIM dried milk and the lads made all sorts of things from the tins. One man made a clock with a pendulum, which chimed. Each Thursday we were given a meal, which consisted of bits of meat in a sort of thin gravy. The Italians built us a church inside the camp. They painted all sorts of figures inside, they were wonderful artists. I learned lots of hymns there I haven’t heard since.

We were put to work hoeing the land seven days a week, and I was in charge of one working party. We were given cigarettes every day, always the best cigarettes, Players or Senior Service. One day we were told there were no cigarettes so I said 'No cigarette, no lavoro' (no cigarettes, no work) so we all downed tools and we were marched back to camp. The following day we were given cigarettes and we got back to work hoeing the field of tobacco plants.

Apart from working on the land on the camp, we were also sent out to work on local farms. I worked on a farm which belonged to an Italian family. I don’t know the farmer’s name but I called him Mustachio because he had a moustache, although I never called him that to his face. The farmer’s wife was Malvina and they had two sons, Gianni who was l8, Joseppi l6 and three daughters, Delfina l2, Ester 9 and Luciana 7.

Italian pleasures

When I had some free time on the farm I would help the family tread grapes for making wine. The grapes were loaded into vats about 4ft high and 6ft in diameter. We then got in, without washing our feet first, and the grapes were lovely and cool. As we trod the grapes, the grape skins and stalks would come to the top, the skins were then put into a press to extract every drop of juice, and containers were filled from a tap at the bottom of the vat and were taken to market to be sold. The wine from the tap was as pure as you like, and lovely and sweet. We also made 'whisky' from the wine — we would fill a 5-gallon drum with wine, light a fire underneath the drum and collect the steam through a plastic tube. The tube passed through cold water and as soon as the steam hit it, it turned into droplets of 'whisky', which was collected in bottles.

Escape attempts

After several months in the camp, there was a terrific storm one night and I saw it as my chance to escape. I didn’t tell anyone I was going. I ran from my tent across the field. There was a trip wire and a barbed-wire entanglement, but I found a space to get through and made for the farmhouse I’d been working at, because I’d become friendly with the family there and I thought that would be the safest place to go. They put me in a bedroom for the night but a couple of hours later a knock came to the door. The lady of the house shouted, 'Tomaso, veni qua' (Thomas, come down) — the Guards were there for me. Four Italian soldiers and the officer in charge of the camp escorted me to the camp, a pistol in my back and rifles pointed at me. When I got back to camp my mates all shouted 'Good old Blondie', and they all clapped and cheered. I promised myself they wouldn’t catch me the next time.

On 8 September 1943, I made my final escape and began what was to be my long journey home. I wasn’t sure where I was going, but once I’d crossed the River Po (I don’t remember how I got across) I was found by an Italian Partisan, who took me to a wood where other Partisans were hiding and I joined up with them. They’d made camp under a parachute. They even had a radio and that was the first time I heard The Voice of Britain. The Voice of Britain played music and gave out coded messages to freedom fighters all over Europe. They gave out a list of colours and numbers each night — our colour was white but I don’t remember the number. When our colour and number was called, we knew to look out for a plane dropping ammunition and clothing. We raided local farms at night for food, but being Partisans anyone would feed you.

Life with the Partisans

On 6 June l944 we listened to the D-Day landing reports, telling us how the sky was black with planes and the sea was full of ships taking troops to France. It was exciting to listen to because everyone had been waiting for D-Day and it was the most thrilling moment of the war for me.

Some months later the Partisans planned to get me out of Italy. I was to be put on a train which would drop me off in Milan. They stopped the train and there was just enough room for me to get in — the train was full of German soldiers! The Partisans told me not to speak or I’d give myself away.

Once safely in Milan they’d arranged for me to stay with the Fire Brigade and there was someone there to meet me. They’d even organised an apartment for me in Milan. Outside the apartment Mussolini’s Black Shirts marched along the road each morning and I was warned never to look out of the window.

The first meal I had I was told was rabbit but it looked more like cat to me and I couldn’t bring myself to eat it. When the lady asked me why I hadn’t eaten it I told her I was feeling very poorly. After staying for a while in Milan, the Partisans then led me and another chap called Bill Fuller into Switzerland. We had to walk all the way. I had a bottle of brandy in my pocket, which I planned to celebrate with when I got into Switzerland.

It was brushland all the way up the mountainside so we had plenty of cover to hide from the Germans patrolling the frontier. We were told to cross when the German patrolmen reached a certain point. The Partisans pointed out a stretch of fence where we could get underneath the wire, which we did, and we were finally in Switzerland!

Free at last

Two Swiss guards with an Alsatian dog stopped us on the other side. The guards guessed we were English. I told them Bill was in the Artillery — I still had my RASC lapel. Civilians were waiting and they asked if we were Germans. When we told them we were English they clapped and cheered. In the guardroom we were given bread and a round box of cheese. At night time we were taken to another camp, quite a few more English soldiers were there and the first job was to have all our hair cut off — I told a white lie and said I was an officer, so they agreed not to cut mine. It was almost Christmas 1944, there was every nationality under the sun there and we all joined in singing 'Silent Night', each in his own language, it was very moving and I remember it as if it was yesterday.

From there we went by lorry to Lyons to be interrogated by Americans. The Americans occupied Lyons at that time. Bill went to be interrogated first and an American came up to me and said, 'Your friend is no more English than I am' — I don’t know what he meant by that, but Bill and I were driven to Paris Airport, although I was the only one allowed on the plane and I had to part company with Bill.

The plane took me to London. It was 1 January l945. It felt good to be back on British soil after all that time. One of the first things I did was to visit Bill Fuller’s family in London to let them know he was safe. For the next 11 months I was posted to different barracks around the country. We were given 48-hour passes, one at the beginning of July to celebrate VE Day (Victory in Europe) and on 5 November to celebrate VJ Day (Victory in Japan). On 16 November 1945 I left York Infantry Barracks, Military Dispersal Unit on release leave, finally being demobbed from the Army on 2 March 1946. I kept in contact with the Italian family for quite a while, and one day I received a letter from the Italian fireman I met in Milan, saying he had been arrested on suspicion of being a spy.

Looking back on my war years, I can see I cheated death several times, and having been a Christian all my life, I truly believe someone was watching over me.

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