大象传媒

Unit : Medium Machine-Gun Group, 2nd Battalion The South Staffordshire Regiment

Jack Bird, born on the 22nd July 1912, had been employed in Walsall as a clerk at Talbot Stead Tube Co. Ltd. before joining The South Staffordshire Regiment, 24th June 1940. Passing the necessary medical tests the 2nd South Staffords were converted to an airborne role in late 1941.

Nth AFRICA

Jack departed to North Africa in preparation for the Invasion of Sicily on the 9th July 1943. Travelling in an American Waco glider, carrying a jeep, two ammunition trailers, and 10 men, the flight over the Mediterranean was largely uneventful until approximately two or three miles from the coastline they began to see searchlights, flak, and tracer fire. Having some distance to travel before they cast off, it came as a surprise when the tow rope released them and their Scottish pilot shouted that they were about to come down in the sea. The pilots managed to ditch the glider in the sea remarkably well, in spite of rough seas. Although the wings kept the glider afloat, the fuselage sank and the water was soon up to their knees. Jack and five others managed to break their way out and climbed onto the wings, the remaining four men were not seen again, presumed drowned. It was standard procedure for the towing aircraft to drop a dinghy in the event of the glider landing in the sea, but there was no sign of this and so the group could only continue to cling to their craft. They were all wet and cold, and though it seemed as if the glider was gradually drifting closer to the coast, where there appeared to be quite a battle raging, they were in fact drifting further away from it and by morning were 7 miles adrift. Dawn came with the welcome sight of the British invasion force. An officer on one of the assault boats called out and paused to take them aboard. A Commando in the craft asked Jack "What mob do you blokes belong to?", he replied "We're airborne troops.", to which the man said "F**k that for a lark." and pulled out his flask and offered Jack a drink. The assault craft carried on to the shore where the Commandos departed unopposed, and then took them back to the fleet where they were put on an armed merchant vessel named the 'Ulster Queen'. After resting, they and other survivors journeyed out to the many ditched gliders and salvaged what equipment and ammunition they could. This unpleasant duty done the group were put on a ship bound for Malta, joining what remained of the 2nd South Staffords in North Africa a month later. Jack and many others of the battalion felt that many of their losses had been sustained through tug pilots ditching the gliders in the sea rather than braving the flak to drop them on target. He wrote "It was resented by those who came back that so many good men lost their lives through the tow planes releasing their gliders without a chance of them making their dropping zone, this did no good towards furthering entente cordiale between British and American troops in this area."

1st Airlanding Brigade was shipped to Italy on 9th September 1943, and their brief stay was one that Jack looked back on with affection. Though always the threat of it, there was little enemy interference, and with a population who couldn't do enough for the troops there was always plenty of time to sample local culture.

ARNHEM

Jack kept a war diary of his experiences at Arnhem, and as a prisoner of war. This diary was donated to the Staffordshire Regimental Museum by his family after his death.

"At approx nine o'clock on a sunny Sept morn (Sunday 18th to be exact) we took off from Broadwell aerodrome and I think all the RAF personnel turned out to give us a good send off - personally wished they had taken our places in the gliders and we had been doing the waving off. 1st Airborne Div had been standing by since D Day for an airborne operation, and we had been briefed for 16 operations, all of which were cancelled.

"We rose into the air making for the Channel I said to myself 'This is it!' sticking in to my haversack rations. The sky seemed full of gliders and we swept along in formation; the weather, perfect. Rescue launchers were in the Channel waiting to pick up anybody who had the misfortune (?) to come down. Over the Dutch coast (time being about 1 o'clock). Down went 2 gliders. We were encountering flak, but luckily our glider was not hit. We carried on to our DZ which we reached at about 2 o'clock, after being cast off by our tug plane (which were Wellington's) we sailed down to make a perfect landing, gliders lay all over the place - many had come to grief, some on fire, but the majority seemed to have come down OK. Out we jumped taking up defensive positions around the glider. Then we moved off to the battalion rendezvous which was called Regus Camp. We picked up the rest the MG Platoon and waited for the bn to form up for the move to our objective - Arnhem. Our detachment were behind A Coy. Passed through Wolfhezen late afternoon and there was much damage done by our bombers. What a pity this lovely country had to be wrecked by war. The Dutch people were genuinely glad to welcome us, greeting us with cheers pointing the direction the Germans had taken. Along the road were signs of a hasty Jerry retreat, equipment strewn all over the place. A German staff car wrecked on a crossroad, the four occupants inside dead, one sprawled grotesquely out of the door, this looked like 'strafing' from our fighters. Nice work! By this time we were approaching Arnhem and things were warming up. Snipers all over the place and we had to move warily. The town looked lively, fires blazing. We halted, but after an hour we moved on into the town and spent the night very uncomfortably - thanks to snipers."

"Morning (Sept 19th) we tried to get to the bridge, things were not going 'to plan' - the paras on the bridge had been cut off, all attempts to reach them were in vain. Jerry had got onto us with his mortars, giving us a hell of a time. This went on until late afternoon, when it seemed to be 'every man for himself' and one of those 'strange withdrawals' took place. I got on a jeep, one of a long column of vehicles pulling out in the direction of Oosterbeek. Soon decided that riding was not good for my health after being fired on as we went along, so I nipped away behind the houses and had a 'breather'. Meeting two or three blokes on the way I got as far as a railway station where we stayed for a while owing to attention from snipers. One by one we made a dash for it until we came to Oosterbeek. In a dugout on the bank of a stream in front of the village church, I met up with some of my mob. I decided to 'muck in' with them as I could not see any sign of my platoon. Everybody was busy 'digging in', the deeper the better."

"We were a mixed lot - four or five of our signal pln, two men from C Coy, an orderly room clerk, and myself. An NCO from the signal pln was in charge of us. Behind us were a battery of howitzers. I spent most of my time in that spot from 19/21 Sept, and it was very lively at times. I reckon I escaped only by the skin of my teeth, still my lucky star must have been with me (as in Sicily). Much of that time we spent pressing our brackets into Mother Earth as mortars plastered down on us. In company with L/C Chillingsworth I was manning a Bren gun which was covering a crossroad at about midnight on Saturday evening (Sept 23rd) and it was all quiet for a change. Jerry must have thought it was too quiet, so started slinging mortars over. We didn't take much notice until one dropped about 15 yards away, the next one landed right in our positions. 'Willy' was badly hurt. I was dazed, but pulling myself together I looked around for Chillingsworth he was staggering about shouting 'I've been hit'. So I quietened him down, Cpl Pegg went across the R.A.P. for a stretcher, putting him down on it we carried him to the R.A.P. This place was absolutely crammed with casualties, many dead, many dying. There was not an inch of room on the floor. You can guess what a job we had with a stretcher. We carried him into the M.O.'s room. I waited outside, after a while one of the orderlies came out and I asked him if there was any chance for Chillingsworth, he said he was in a bad way but they were operating right away, he didn't give much hope for him. I asked him if he had seen Cpl Pegg, he said 'Yes he's over there' pointing to a body covered in sheet. This shook me as he seemed OK when we carried the stretcher across. I went and had a look at him and saw he had been hit above his left eye. He was quiet and seemed to be asleep so I left him. I was told afterwards that L/C Chillingsworth died next day, but Cpl Pegg recovered and was taken prisoner - I shall never forget the cries of the blokes for water.

"Next morning I joined up with No.1 MMG Pln who were in front of the church in defensive positions. There I met Ernie Young out of our platoon, also Jimmy Renwick, a geordie boy, one of the best. All day Sunday we didn't have much respite from Jerry, what with his mortars, SP guns, tanks, he gave us hell, still there was no news of us getting relieved, it looked as if we had 'had it'. There was a rumour going around that an evacuation was going to be tried across the river, this was tried. Orders were given out by Major Buchanan that we would commence to move for the river at 1145pm Monday night (25 Sept). I spent biggest part of that Monday inside the church, which by now was practically in ruins, but the walls provided good cover. I was with Jimmy Renwick but lost sight of Ernie Young who left the church, I never saw him again. In the early part of the evening soldiers of the Dorset Regt came into the church. They had come across the river to contact us, but not many had got across, many killed or captured. We waited for the order to move and left the church for a slit trench, where we encountered 'Mucky' Hall. Now it was dark and raining, we dozed until the time came to move. It was an eerie procession that wound its way out of the village and set off across country for the river which lay about 1陆 miles on our left. It was a long column and of course we had to move cautiously, it seemed a long way as we had to halt frequently on account of flares and machinegun fire. After about 2 hours we reached the ferry, and our feelings can be visualised when I say that for the job of evacuating about eight hundred men there was only two small boats, each of which held about fourteen men. We were told to line up in an orderly manner, but they were beyond control and were dashing about and shouting. The officers were helpless, most of them being more concerned to get on the boats. In the move up to the river I lost contact with Jimmy Renwick, but I met up with him later. I could see it was hopeless as regards getting across, as by now it was 3 o'clock and would soon be dawn. Many men tried to swim across but it was a fast moving current, the majority of those who attempted it drowned. Daylight came and with it I gave up hope of getting across, we were caught like rats in a trap, exposed to murderous machinegun fire which came from left and right, and alas behind us. The last boat across was riddled and I doubt if there were many alive when it reached the other side. Dozens of men were shot as they attempted to swim across as they had to face a veritable hail of lead. I should imagine Jerry was enjoying himself immensely at the plight we were in. There was not a vestige of cover on the river bank, tracers were weaving about in all directions, I saw plenty of blokes get hit, but I suppose as there didn't seem to be one with my name on it I was fortunate. It would now be about six o'clock and there seemed to be no escape from the position, and shortly afterwards from somewhere a white flag went up. This did not however stop the machinegun fire from Jerry, but there was such confusion, or maybe he thought it was a ruse on our part...because I'm quite convinced that Jerry never anticipated taking such a bag of prisoners, there were about 500 of us."

"At length we were picked up by Jerries, who jubilantly escorted us into Arnhem, where we went to their Div HQ for interrogation and searched. On the way, as we marched into town, a photographer jumped from a car and started taking pictures, but when the lads started giving him the 'V' sign he packed in. I noticed many Tiger tanks on the road which had been knocked out by our guns. After the search had been completed I found myself in a party about 70 strong and we were marched out of the town in the opposite direction to that which we came in by, to a camp, after a while we were marched back into Arnhem and taken to the railway sidings. By now it was well after noon and we had our first meal in captivity, although I won't insult the word - for I'm firmly convinced that Jerry doesn't know the meaning of the word as regards feeding prisoners of war, anyway that was my experience during my period of captivity. Four tins of meat and a loaf between 8 men, so you can see there was not much meat. We were lined up and counted - a continual source of amusement to me for they never tired of counting us.

The German troops in charge of Jack Bird's group were of Luftwaffe origin. They were moved to the outskirts of Arnhem when the RAF's rocket firing Typhoons were brought into action, the men acted as labourers and stripped the town of what resources remained, filling trucks shoes, wire, iron bars, and electrical equipment. They were well treated and were fed soup in the evening, and handed a third of a loaf and portions of butter and cheese before setting out for work in the morning, where they were allowed to liberate the trucks on the railway sidings of their loads of fruit. On the 6th October the group were moved from Arnhem to Stalag XIIA in Limburg, where Jack was given the number 93197. He was forced to endure the appalling and cramped conditions at this camp until the 24th October, when he was transported via railway to Stalag VIIIC at Sagan, spending four days crammed into a cattle truck with 50 other men. Jack spent the next four months at this camp, until the 8th February 1945 when the Russian advance forced the occupants of this and other camps to be evacuated on the so-called Death march. Thousands of men were marched over 600 kilometres in five weeks, sleeping in the open and enduring frequent wintry conditions with precious little in the way of food. Jack saw men eating anything they could get their hands on; horse feed, grass, and he himself was very glad when he managed to acquire a few cow biscuits filled with maggots. Many men died as a result of this grueling expedition, but Jack, now very weak with dysentery, made it to Stalag IXC at Bad Orb on the 14th March, having lost about a stone in body weight, and also suffering from lice infestation and boils. The camp was in a poor condition, many prisoners were similarly afflicted due to the lack of any medical facilities. The following two and a half weeks were most uncomfortable, and much as he tried to rid himself of lice they continually returned and plagued any attempt to rest. However the sounds of battle were getting closer and closer, and on the 2nd April an American tank appeared and smashed through the gates of the camp. The crew were immediately besieged by the euphoric prisoners, who they showered with cigarettes. On the 10th April, Jack Bird was amongst a party taken to an emergency airstrip where they were deloused and issued with fresh American uniforms, and for the first time in months Jack admitted that he felt like a human being. Later that afternoon the men were flown home to England, where they were fed and sent on leave the following day. Once his leave was over, Jack was instructed to present himself at the depot of the Lancashire Fusiliers, from where he was soon discharged for being medically unfit.

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