大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by Doreen Partridge of the 鈥楢ction Desk 鈥� Sheffield鈥� Team on behalf of Vernon Ledgard and has been added to the site with the author鈥檚 permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

Life at An Army Training Camp
Part 2
Royal Engineers
Kent

On arrival I was allocated to Boys鈥� Block. This was the oldest part of Kitchener Barracks, comprising large rooms with thirty double tier bunks in each. The ablutions did not have any hot water, this meant shaving and washing in cold. It was all very strange and I felt very lonely and homesick. Once you were called into the forces in wartime, you had no rights whatsoever. You were in for the 鈥淒uration of the present Emergency鈥� and the possibility of being able to go back home seemed very remote, if ever. You were constantly told that you are in the army now and you have no rights. If you were given any leave it was a privilege and unless you passed your training course you would have to retrain all over again until you passed. The psychological effect of this on a na茂ve callous youth of eighteen was devastating and depressing. We all received continual severe harsh treatment.

The weather, too, was severe, very cold with some snow on the ground, we were, firstly, to spend our days in an area called the Great Lines, where we were taught how to erect barbed wire and lift or lay mines. Then we had lessons on constructing a bridge across a ravine using heavy posts, somewhat larger than telegraph poles. Most of the men were unused to physical work and found this terribly hard. In my case I was 5鈥�6鈥� weighing only 8st. 4lb. (8 stones, 4 pounds 鈥� 1 stone = approx. 6.3 Kg. 1 pound = approx. 0.45 Kg.) and I was not very strong.

Reveille was at 6a.m. with lights out at 10p.m. and you can be sure that we were glad to be in bed at 10p.m. First thing in the morning after washing and dressing, we took our eating irons to join a long queue of sappers outside the cookhouse, the food was appalling, possibly because when women were called up, if they had no skills and were not very intelligent, they were put to work in the cookhouse. They wore a sort of snood on their heads, a pair of clogs and a mainly dirty wrap-around overall. Their interest in the job or the quality of food was, of course, nil. I remember our evening meal was at onetime, fried liver that had been fried to such an extent that it was like leather, this with a dollop of gravy over it. Next morning, we had the same meal heated up for breakfast.
We were allowed out of the barracks in the evening after cleaning our kit and rifles and after blancoeing our webbing and cleaning our brasses. We, then, made our way into the town centre of Chatham which was not far away, our main purpose was to get more food, often egg and chips or sandwiches, kindly sold at the Salvation Army Canteen or the Church Army, manned by volunteer ladies who were most kind to us. We, also, had a NAAFI within the barracks, which supplied these types of meal.

After some weeks we were given training in the erection of Bailey Bridges which were made of heavy steel panels and girders, and finished with a layer of wooden transoms for vehicles to run on. These were quite ingenious as they could be put together quickly and in various ways and at maximum were able to carry heavy tanks. Once we had trained to an adequate standard, we were taken to a place called Wouldham. This was a camp of Nissen huts, which had concrete floors. It was alongside the Medway, a tidal river. There weren鈥檛 any bunks and we were allocated three blankets and a straw filled pillow and had to sleep on the concrete floor. The toilet was a wooden beam suspended across a stinking pit in the open air. Our dress was denims, U.S. boots (unserviceable) and no socks. Steel helmets were worn at all times.

On our first morning, we were introduced to the Medway. The beach had been formed by tipping a thickness of large pebbles. At the top were some very heavy pontoons (flat top boats), it took about a dozen men at each side to lift them and slowly take them to the river. The sergeant in charge bellowed that they must be taken into the water until they floated. If the bottom scratched the pebbles, we had to lift them back to the top of the beach and do it all again. Obviously, the leading men had to go into the freezing water up to their knees, that鈥檚 the reason for no socks. When the pontoons were floated, we then had to clamber on board, insert a large oar and with our feet braced against a wooden cross piece, sit on the flat deck to row. At the order of 鈥淯p Oars鈥�, the oars had to be raised to vertical position, standing between our thighs. Of course the water ran down the oar, which meant that we were sat in a puddle. All this was in freezing weather.

We had training in building various types of pontoon bridges at night in blackout, no lighting whatsoever. The only good thing about this two-week course was that we were allowed double rations and we had some very good men cooks who did an excellent job. The food was superb!

As you can imagine, all this type of training resulted in many casualties, frozen fingers, slipping off cold steel transoms etc. letting heavy weights fall onto legs, feet or hands. The working parties (as they were called) consisted of a hundred and twenty men, and of these we had more than twenty causalities by the end of the three-month course. In my case, I suffered from frost bitten hands; my fingers were cracked, bleeding and severely swollen.
Our next severe test was a live ammunition assault course. We were taken to a large overgrown unused quarry and assembled at the entrance. As we stood waiting, our anxiety increased because of the tremendous row going on within, loud explosions and the constant chatter of Bren guns. I had become friendly with Norman Horton a young man from Brentford, and another young man called Eddie always attached himself to us when things got difficult or frightening. This was certainly one of those times. He told us that he just couldn鈥檛 face the run, he was completely terrified. We placated him saying that he could run between us where he would be safe. There were Bren guns at the top and both sides of the quarry firing the ammunition over our heads and with continual explosions alongside our route, which took us under barbed wire along channel in the earth, and over specially prepared obstacles. Smoke was everywhere; I shouted to Norman, 鈥淲here is Eddie?鈥� Eddie had disappeared. Fear had lent wings to his feet, for when we reached the end where men were lying in the grass panting for breath, Eddie had got there long before us.

In the evening, after this event, we had to spend our time cleaning the mud and filth from our equipment. Cleaning boots, blancoeing our webbing and gaiters (Blanco was a khaki coloured powder and could be purchased in a can, this was mixed with water and brushed onto the webbing). We had to clean our 303 rifles which we took with us at all times when training, these had to be spotless because our first event of the day was a close inspection of equipment. Anyone not having his kit up to standard was put on a charge and had to report to an officer. The punishment was seven or more days being confined to barracks and having to report to the guardroom where you were allocated two hours of chores, such as washing floors, sweeping up debris etc.

Pay for a new recruit was 21/- (21 shillings - one pound and five pence). If you accepted 14/- (70p) and you were killed whilst in the army, your next of kin received a pension. This seven shillings was allocated to your next of kin each week and could be redeemed from the post office. I made this allocation and received pay of just 14 shillings per week.
I was always a thrifty person and in my wallet I kept a large white five-pound note. This was a secure reserve for any emergency, particularly to be able to pay my fare if I could get leave to go home. It was possible to apply for a weekend pass, which freed you for forty-eight hours, Saturday and Sunday. This was fine for southerners who lived around London etc. but as it was a whole day鈥檚 journey to get to Yorkshire, it was out of the question for me. On two occasions, Norman invited me home for the weekend at Brentford. They were two greatly cherished events, which I thoroughly enjoyed. Norman took me into wartime London and showed me the sights. London was packed with service personnel, particularly yanks. By this time there were no bombing raids but an occasional V.2 rocket could be heard landing with a distant boom, not unlike someone beating a metal drum. No-one took any notice, there was no point, if one landed near, it was just bad luck!

At last, after three very lonely months of training with the Royal Engineers, the course came to an end. I was given ten days leave, starting on Thursday 8th April 1945 until Sunday 6p.m. on the 20th. We received a free return travel warrant to our destination. I was ecstatic! The four months away from home seemed like four years. I took the train to London and the tube to Kings Cross station to catch the 9.45 p.m. to Yorkshire. I was sure that I was the happiest man on earth. I managed to get a seat in one of the compartments. Opposite me was a pale thin soldier wearing what was obviously, a brand new uniform. He had no insignia on this uniform, which was unusual, all uniforms had a regimental insignia on the shoulders, mine clearly showed 鈥淩oyal Engineers鈥�. I was intrigued and offered him a cigarette, which he refused. In the ensuing conversation, I gleaned that he had been a prisoner of war in Germany for some considerable time. He had been in Stalag in the west of Germany and as Russian forces were advancing into Germany, the prisoners were taken out of their camp and marched towards the east. There were no food supplies and he and the other prisoners had to live off anything that they could find. They were marched many, many miles; anyone who fell out would be shot. He survived and was eventually freed by American forces. All the prisoners were little more than walking skeletons and very weak, they were given food but advised not to eat too much as it would be dangerous to put too much into their shrunken stomachs. He informed me, that some men were unable to resist the food and had eaten too much and died.

We reached Halifax station at 5 a.m. This man鈥檚 wife had received notification that her husband was on his way home and having no idea when he would arrive, she had camped out on the station to meet every train night or day. What a reunion!

From Halifax I shared the cost of a taxi with another soldier who lived within a mile of my home. As it was still dark, I decided to walk the last mile. I was walking on air those last yards. The dawn chorus started and there I was, walking along the old familiar road to my home. I knocked on the door, realising that my parents would still be in bed. Then distant voices; the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs. It was my mother in her dressing gown. She opened the door and her first words to me were, 鈥淲hat are you wanting at this time in the morning?鈥� She did not recognise me, I had gone away a pale callow youth and during my time away I had put a stone on in weight and of course I was in army uniform.

Pr-BR

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