´óÏó´«Ã½

Explore the ´óÏó´«Ã½
This page has been archived and is no longer updated. Find out more about page archiving.

15 October 2014
WW2 - People's War

´óÏó´«Ã½ Homepage
´óÏó´«Ã½ History
WW2 People's War Homepage Archive List Timeline About This Site

Contact Us

July 1944 Birthday call-up papers and to hell and back

by Les Cartwright-alias east lancs pbi

You are browsing in:

Archive List > British Army

Contributed byÌý
Les Cartwright-alias east lancs pbi
Background to story:Ìý
Army
Article ID:Ìý
A8112430
Contributed on:Ìý
29 December 2005

July, 1944…Birthday Call-Up Papers to Hell and Back…
On his 18th birthday, LC received his call-up papers to an initial army-training depot
at Formby near Liverpool. After completing rigorous infantry training (battle
exercises and endurance tests of forced marches in full gear, with packed shovel for digging in, of 20 miles in four hours), he was transferred to the 1st Battalion East Lancashire Regiment, stationed near Clitheroe, in November 1944 for even tougher infantry assault training. Here war exercises became virtual reality involving ground and air forces using live ammunition over many horrible days and nights in the vast, open area of Pendle Hill. It is well known as ‘Witches Hill’. An area that is, in the winter months, cold, bleak, inhospitable and totally without cover. Up to 10 per cent casualties was the sort of calculation considered inevitable in such training. If exceeded, tough. But for some, even, a fortunate release. This was wartime and it was battle indoctrination for what was about to happen. Nevertheless, Les admits that it drove him almost to the point of going AWOL. But nothing could be comparable with the real thing.

LC’s passbook had already been marked destination ‘Far East 1’. However, that placement was changed, at short notice, by the rapid initial success of - and the extremely serious military situation that had been created by - the surprise German Ardennes counter offensive launched just before Christmas 1944. It had caught the Allies off guard and unprepared. And Les was now destined to be one of a band of reinforcements being rushed across the Channel, to a holding unit in Holland, as replacements for the East Lancs Regiment in the 53rd Welsh Division of Monty’s 21st Army Group. It was New Year 1945. And one of the worst winters recorded in Western Europe. Les, in very much later years, would ruefully tell the story of how his small trepid troop was ‘welcomed’ to the regiment, regrouping a few miles behind the frontline, by a captain with a dirty bandage over his left eye. He took one look and said: ‘Bloody hell they’re sending them over from kindergarten now’.

The vulgar, insensitive brutality of war was now about to be witnessed in the raw. As D company, which LC’s band of reinforcements had joined, were marched closer to the front, the silent horror of seeing the immediate aftermath of fighting — torn off limbs, grotesque, stiff bodies in bloody dirty uniforms (somehow a touch reassuring that more of them were clad in German insignia) — was broken by veterans, trying to ‘help morale’ by suddenly starting a rippling but steadily increasing raucous chorus of ‘ I Ain’t Got Nobody’.

From Christmas through to early March ’45, in the severest of winter conditions known for over 50 years, World War 11’s largest battle in Western Europe was fought. The outcome remained in balance for weeks stretching the Allies to their utmost before the onslaught was stemmed. Casualties were high.

Les, in his first blooding, lost chums with whom he had trained. They were advancing in file along a narrow country road. Firing was sporadic. Then, a German Tiger tank of the 15th Panzer Division came rumbling towards them with counter attacking infantry. The British Sherman tanks were no equal match and quickly turned for cover. Les, carrying the PIAT (projectile infantry anti-tank weapon), and his number 2 with a case of 6 ‘rockets’, hastily scrambled for cover in to the ditch by the side of the road and prepared the PIAT ready for firing. ThePIAT’s ‘killing’ range is less than 100 yards — if that against the armour of a Tiger. It was then, that a scything sweep of rapid machine-gun fire from a German Spandau cut through the PIAT’s monopod, accompanied by screams from those who had been hit. Les also felt a wet seepage on his thigh, through sodden denims, but strangely no pain. British artillery was then called on to pound the enemy with high explosives, and laid a smoke screen to allow those who were being pinned down to escape to a less exposed position. When LC made it to the ‘shelter’ of a burning farmhouse, the blood — he thought was running down his right leg - was no thicker than mud and water coming from a bullet hole through the water bottle attached to his belt.

From then on, in the advance to and across the Rhine, he was in the frontline continuously for 3 months and many other such traumatic experiences were to become irremovable tenants within lifelong memories. When LC was asked how they got on for eating, washing, and clean clothes at the time, the response was sharp and sardonic. However, he went on to explain that it was hard rations - particularly plain-wrapped thick dark chocolate bars and mess-tin brewed compo tea that kept them going — especially when supplemented by the occasional ‘gourmet’ can of self-heating soup, or chocolate, that sympathetic tank crews would toss to the bedraggled infantry as they rumbled past them. As for clean socks and underwear, Les, with screwed-up face, simply said that they would simply try to recycle, as best they could, previously removed damp ones that had been stuffed back in rucksacks. And as for fresh, dryclothing, well…. his printable answer is that after very many days, (uncountable now) and bearable only by survival, heavenly, and smell-free relief, would come from being pulled back to where a line of crude open air shower units had been erected in a field, then stripping and filing, shiveringly naked, through lukewarm sprinklers before being dried and dusted with AL 63 (anti-lice) powder. This ‘human wash-line’, was then issued with replacement clothing. (An ironical adjunct to this story was to emerge 57 years later. It came from an historical book, published in 1990, on Chadderton — the birthplace of Les — that had been sent to him out of nostalgic interest. It so happened that in it was a picture of ladies packing AL 63 with the caption: “Only now may the story of many war-time activities be told. Amongst them is that of AL 63, the dusting powder that kept our fighting Forces free from typhus carrying lice and was produced by Cooper, McDougal and Robertson in their Chadderton factory. (Les believes his mum may well have had a hand in the packing, but sadly neither of them realised that empathic significance at the time)

When you got LC to talk, even if reluctantly, of such times, vivid memories would flood back. One such is when he was selected for a night patrol with an officer and a sergeant. The objective was to infiltrate enemy positions and gather information on the estimated strength and, if possible, identity of opposing forces. It was known that crack Panzer units, strengthened by fanatical officer cadets, were in the undulating wooded area leading up to the Rhine. Les recalls a ‘chilling’ account of how providence and a guardian angel safely guided them undetected to nearby German stationary tanks, and within hearing distance of foreign voices and the rattle of mess tins, without being exposed to their forward foxholes. On their return, stealthily struggling across no-mans land in inky blackness, hopefully in the right direction, they heard ghostly voices in English, but with guttural accent, painfully crying out for help. This obvious ruse was ignored. Nevertheless, it was considered, during debriefing, that the trepid trio might well have been deliberately allowed safe passage so as to leave a trail back to their positions. It was, therefore, considered expedient to give the area of ‘no-mans land’ a heavy, concentrated burst of shell and machine gun fire. After the report, came the perk. The delight of a full breakfast served in a farmhouse, temporarily taken over by HQ, about a couple of miles back. It was the
first civilised meal Les had eaten for weeks — with the bliss afterwards of a private sit-on toilet. However, even that was only partly fulfilled. German 88 shells — as if with petulant anger that the patrol shouldn’t get away with it — began to accurately target the farmhouse and, as Les can now smile in the telling, to cause undignified evacuation in more ways than one.

Not many days after this episode, in the continuous thrust to the Rhine, the German officer cadet unit again confronted the East Lancs. And, but for wrongly targeting 88mm air burst shells on to the field immediately ahead of where the Battalion was dug-in, casualties would have been extremely high. LC tells how he watched in
horror as the field they were about to cross was ripped up with undiluted accuracy. In the following dawn attack, Les remembers how he ‘froze’ when he observed the tell- tale three prongs of an anti-personnel mine sticking out of the ground about a foot away from his right boot. This momentary immobility, however, was animated immediately without caution as Spandau bullets again spit on the ground around the platoon. After fierce in-close fighting, the Germans raised white surrender indicators above their individual foxholes. But it was a subterfuge, and as the advancing infantry swept by them, they opened fire on their backs. It was suicidal and the first time, Les says, he felt completely compassionless. This was around the time when it was reported in the press, and later in books, that these fanatical troops — with a large input of Hitler jugend (youth)-had mercilessly shot a group of 53rd Welsh Division prisoners.
(Subsequently, some writers and archivists concluded that this charge could not be substantiated).

Among these bitter, everlasting memories, now being fragmentally triggered in their telling, there was also - incredible as it may seem - humour, as well as well as pathos, and compassion for women and children inescapably involved in total war. A hospital for the mentally handicapped — that was discovered to be also treating German wounded - had to be‘fired’ because their snipers were using it with killing effect. At the rustic town of Rothenburg, the East Lancs came across Stalag (prisoner camps) that also held Russian POW. When released, the Russians began to commit all kinds of unspeakable reprisals on the civilians. The Battalion was compelled to halt its advance to restore civilised order and to await back echelons of the military police.

LC says it is now difficult to cohesively chronicle the many episodes in what was
such fast moving turmoil. But many, individually, stick in the forefront of his mind. The crossing of the river Aller is one. It was, as nearly always, an early dawn attack. An ‘assault pioneers’ unit (for which Les had previously volunteered, somewhat misguidedly as, he openly admits, he thought army pioneers had something to do with pay and admin. and sounded a much better bet at the time) had furtively fixed ropes on the opposite bank so that infantry filled pontoons could be hand pulled across. The river was icy cold and fast flowing; and the lead boat, with his mates, immediately ahead of the one Les was in, was lost with only two survivors as it capsized on being raked with concentrated enemy machinegun fire.

Weariness and low morale had now inevitably set in, but there was to be no respite, Morale boosting letters from Montgomery were read out to all troops urging no let up in the advance until the Baltic was reached. He wanted to be there ahead of the Russians.

But deliverance from fighting, thankfully, came sooner. On Luneburgh Heath on the 3 May. The Division was preparing for the assault on a devastated Hamburg, when Les witnessed Wehrmacht vehicles with white flags and a top delegation lead by Admiral Hans von Friedeburgh. He had been ordered by Doenitz (now chief of the Reich) to surrender to Montgomery all German forces in North West Germany, Holland and Denmark.

It was quite some time before Les started to talk about his wartime experiences; then
he would define them simply but graphically as awful. He made jottings, whenever possible, to try unsuccessfully to exorcise the worst demons from his mind, but they were indelibly imprinted.

Somehow, he managed to keep a small collection of memorabilia in a small, battered case held together by a leather belt. A modest but treasured item from it, now hung in the little room, is a simple, small-framed picture of a German nursery rhyme. It was a gift to him from a child for the mite of comfort and help he had tried to give her and elderly granddad in appalling conditions immediately following cessation of hostilities. Another poignant, contrasting reminder, is that of a German officer’s ceremonial bayonet, with swastika emblem, hung in his study over a framed article from the Soldier magazine with the headline, from a quote by General Dempsey, ‘The 53 (Welsh) Div. Fought Like Tigers’. Les considers it now to be unnecessary to add any further embellishment other than it was ‘appropriated’, in fierce fighting around the totally destroyed towns of Cleve and Goch, just after the river Rhine crossing.

The six year war was over...but, Les says, the aftermath was beyond belief. Thousands of dead bodies were decomposing under the rubble of once towns and cities. This along with no sanitation or any other normal services was of great concern and demanded immediate and positive clinical action to avoid a plague of unimaginable magnitude. And the British Army of the Rhine had the initial unenviable task of trying to establish some semblance of civilisation. END

© Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.

Archive List

This story has been placed in the following categories.

British Army Category
icon for Story with photoStory with photo

Most of the content on this site is created by our users, who are members of the public. The views expressed are theirs and unless specifically stated are not those of the ´óÏó´«Ã½. The ´óÏó´«Ã½ is not responsible for the content of any external sites referenced. In the event that you consider anything on this page to be in breach of the site's House Rules, please click here. For any other comments, please Contact Us.



About the ´óÏó´«Ã½ | Help | Terms of Use | Privacy & Cookies Policy
Ìý