大象传媒

The Argylls sent a section of men round the bend in the road and paid Jerry back in their own coin. As it was so bitterly cold in the Ardennes, we dug douvres 鈥� slit trenches a little bigger than usual which we then covered with fallen logs and earth for protection, leaving about the size of an ordinary slit trench at one end in case we had to fight off any attack. Except for a direct hit from a shell or bomb we were quite safe.
One night we were stonked (shelled) by Jerry so everyone took cover in the trenches 鈥� Dick Viney and I did the same and dived into ours. Suddenly something came whizzing into the open end of the trench and I felt a nasty blow to my ankle and then my whole leg went numb. My first thought was that my leg was off, as I had heard somewhere that with a bad wound you felt no pain for a while until feeling came back. I knew that I had been terribly wounded when, after a few minutes, my leg began to pain especially the foot. I was sure my foot had gone and I could feel blood soaking into my boot. I just had to lay there bleeding to death for about 15 more minutes until the shelling had stopped. As soon as it stopped I unlaced my boot expecting my foot to come away with it but as soon as Dick Viney shone his torch on to the terrible wound, and when I could bring myself to look, I could see nothing but a bruise appearing. The small stone 鈥� for that was what had struck me 鈥� had not even cut the boot; so much for the imagination! All I got was a sore foot for a week, it wasn鈥檛 a Blighty one after all but, I never left anything hanging out again when we were being shelled.

After we finished in the Ardennes we moved back into Holland. One day we were paraded in a field and along came some American Top Brass who told us we were to be presented with a Presidential Citation. The award was for the Division but the troops would be entitled to wear the ribbon on the right sleeve for all time 鈥� we are still waiting for the honour to arrive 鈥� Monty and Churchill were also present. After the 鈥榖ull鈥� was over the pipe band played the retreat, that was the best part of the days proceedings, although some of us with memories of the last time the band played kept a weather eye out for Jerry planes but this time they were allowed to play in peace.

At the beginning of February home leave started, so many being allowed from each Platoon. Our names were put in a hat and in view of everyone four names were pulled out 鈥� I was one of the lucky ones who were granted seven days leave and two days travelling time. Leave was very nice but there wasn鈥檛 much to do as all my mates were also in the forces. When it cam time to go back to London we got as far as Reading when the porters cam along the platform telling all the troops that if they were the leave party they had been given a 24 hour extension because the channel was so stormy that all sailings had been put back for a least a day. The troops from the Bristol area smartly left the train nipped across the footbridge and caught the next train back home. It was late when I got there and I worried Gran when I told her I had deserted. It wasn鈥檛 until she heard the official announcement on the wireless that she knew I was joking. I was only able to have the extra 24 hrs at home 鈥� though a good look out was kept on the way back to London just in case the weather was as bad.

After crossing the channel we were told that the Bn was fighting in the Reichwald Forest; I was lucky here as my fighting skill was not required, I wasn鈥檛 sorry as the Battalion was taking a pounding. I t was decided that those that had just returned from leave should be kept at Bechelon; some distance from the front where the stores and transport not needed were also kept. It was decided to leave us there as re-enforcements but, as it turned out, we were not needed because two days later due to the casualties suffered the battalion was withdrawn from the line. From there we moved to attack a place called Heckens, this was also a bit naughty as Jerry was beginning to fight a lot harder now that we were getting close to his homeland.
At last we entered Germany moving into the remains of a town called Goch. The battalion took no part in capturing it that honour went to the 5th Seaforths assisted by the 5th/7th Gordons. We moved into the cellars of the destroyed houses and the Bn was brought up to strength. After about a week we moved back to a place called Roermond where we did some training with the new men to get them into shape. The lads that had come back to us from hospital were also quite rusty but were soon knocked back into shape. From here we moved to Indenberg which is on a river and started training for the Rhine crossing. Every day we were taken across the river in Buffaloes and attacked the other side. From here we moved to a place called Calcar into the area of a tobacco factory. Here I was promoted to the dizzy heights of L/Cpl but kept on in my job as runner. The next day we were waiting to move up to the banks of the Rhine in readiness to cross it in the attack when one of the medics came up and gave us some fags and I had the strange feeling that something was going to happen to me in the attack. I said to him 鈥淚鈥檒l see you before long鈥�. My mates told me not to worry about it as we all went through it at some time or other. We attacked at 2000 hrs, though it was a dark night we had no problem seeing; Monty鈥檚 moonlight was being used 鈥� this was caused by searchlights at the rear being shone onto the clouds and being reflected, lighting up the area as clear as day. I am not sure that it didn鈥檛 help the enemy as well. We crossed the river with no trouble although we were the leading platoon, a few Jerry shells landing near the Buffaloes. The worst time was when we hit the opposite bank and came under a lot of small arms and shelling. We successfully fought our way to the village of Rees. We were crossing the garden of a house hen we came under heavy small arms fire. Sir and I were in the lead; all we could do was to drop where we were, the rest of the platoon being able to take cover. We lay there for a while when we saw two Jerries coming towards us across the garden, Dick whispered to play dead 鈥� that didn鈥檛 need much effort as I was nearly dead from fright anyway. The two Jerries came up had a good look at us and deciding that we had gone to Higher Service turned around and walked back to the house. It was a good job that they didn鈥檛 search us for loot as we would have given ourselves away for sure. When they had vanished we were up and running back across the road as fast as we could. Halfway across Dick fell flat on his face, he had got his feet tangled in some phone wire that had been hit down by the shelling. I stopped for him to sort it out, leaning against what I thought was a brewed up jerry tank, when suddenly the machine gun on the tank started firing at some of our troops further down the road. It was very much a live tank and needless to say I made my self pretty scarce very quickly. The platoon anti-tank section was called up to dispose` of the tank, which wasn鈥檛 very big. We made our way back across the road and by this time I had decided that I had been worrying for nothing. Sir stopped by the house that the Jerries had gone into and we both lobbed grenades through the window, not hanging around to see if they were appreciated. The Platoon moved up to take up a position near some house; Charlie Burford鈥檚 section was near some railway lines and was sent across to contact the platoon to our left. He found them OK but as he came back across some trigger happy member of his section, thinking he was the enemy, fired at him and hit him in the side of his right hand just below the index finger with the bullet passing through the hand. The result was that Charlie lost the use of his hand which must have been very awkward as he was right handed, though as time went by I expect he learnt to cope. It was just after this incident that my luck ran out.

In front of our position was a burning house and by the light of it we could see a few Jerries holding a white flag, they had decided that enough was enough and that they were not going to be supermen any longer. They were allowed into our area; Sir and I were questioning them by one of the houses when there was a bang and my left leg went numb. The Jerries were left to look after themselves; they were Volksturm (German Home guard) and about 90 years old. We all scampered into the house we were near and I managed to get upstairs 鈥� with help 鈥� to cover the area from the broken upstairs landing window. By now I was beginning to think that it was the same as before, i.e. a stone had hit me but then the pain began and I knew without doubt
it was more than a stone bruise. From where I was I could see two more Jerries talking to the ones that were captured and I took aim with my Sten gun, pressed the trigger and, as usually happens with a Sten gun, it let me down and didn鈥檛 work. There was a loud bang and the Jerries fell to the ground, no longer interested in what was going on 鈥� Sir had lobbed a grenade at them. I thought I was going to join them any minute as the pain was not very pleasant. After a few more minutes the pain eased off to a dull ache and as we always carried our water bottle on our webbing hanging over our backsides I thought the bullet had struck the water bottle, walloped into me and, like the last time, was a false alarm. Dick Viney called the medic who told me to drop my pants. He said 鈥測ou鈥檝e got a hole in your arse鈥� my reply was 鈥淚 Hope I Have鈥� 鈥� his reply to this was that it was in the wrong place. The bullet had gone through the left cheek of my backside and torn a lump out of the other. After a while I was put on a stretcher and, with Charlie Burford, was carried by jerry prisoners to the river, taken back over put on an adapted stretcher carrying jeep and taken to the advanced dressing station. I had told the medic I would see him again 鈥� and here I was. We were given a hot, sweet mug of tea and a cigarette, the examined by a doctor 鈥� who in his infinite wisdom decided I could be classed as 鈥榳alking wounded鈥�. My wound was re-dressed and I had to walk to a troop-carrying vehicle to be transported to a forward clearing hospital. It wasn鈥檛 a pleasant trip, troop-carriers are not Rolls Royce鈥檚, every little bump sent agonies of pain through my old bum. When we got to the hospital we were undressed and, as filthy as we were, put into beds, the sheets on them were lovely and clean 鈥� oh what bliss that was. We were allowed to sleep and on awakening were given the life-saving cup of tea and fag. After we had been fed we were examined by a doctor, mine was a lady doctor. It was, for me, at this time a new experience; she stood behind me and lifted the tail of my shirt to examine my wound; being embarrassed I was trying to push the front of my shirt down. This started Charlie Burford laughing at my antics, the doctor started to tell me off until Charlie told her why I was doing it, whereby the doc said 鈥渋f you think yours is the first man鈥檚 backside I have seen you have another thing coming鈥�. When she found out that I had been treated as a walking wounded she did her nut. That evening we were taken on stretchers to the nearest railway station 鈥� and another cup of char 鈥� and put on an ambulance train which travelled back through Germany and Holland to Ostend in Belgium. A casino which was situated in the sand dunes on the beach had been turned into a hospital. There we were undressed, given a bath, put into lovely clean pyjamas and put to bed. We were left to sleep for the next twelve hours or so. The next day we were examined by the doctors who decided, as they politely put it, that they would sew up my right buttock. I was taken to the operating theatre, put to sleep and sewn up. When I came round I was laid on my stomach, the position I had to stay like for about ten days 鈥� to help the wound heal quicker. I still don鈥檛 know whether it helped or not. After that and having the new wonder drug injected into me every three hours night and day for a week life was very painful 鈥� the penicillin was to stop gangrene. The day after the operation the Doctor came to see me and said 鈥測ou were a very lucky man Corporal鈥�. I replied I knew that as the bullet had just missed a grenade that I had in my pocket. He replied that he meant another half inch higher the bullet would have lodged at the base of my spine and I would have paralysed for life! After the first week I had the stitches removed and was allowed to sleep like a normal person but the next couple of weeks were spent lying on my belly, as every time I went to sleep and happened to turn over on my back it would soon waken me with pain so I would get the nurses to help me on my front again. When I had the penicillin jabs that were done in my bum, I would ask the nurse which cheek had the most holes in, so that it could be done in the other side. As I said before life was on the very painful side. The only trouble, as penicillin was a new drug, no one knew if there were any side-effects, so the troops acted as guinea pigs. As it turned out some people were allergic 鈥� But think of ALL the lives it did save.

The army ruling at one time was that if a soldier had been in hospital for 21 days or more he was put on the Y-list; which meant that when he became fit for duty he was sent to a holding unit and then could be sent to any unit other than his own. This, in most cases, was not a popular move which, I believe under the orders of General Montgomery, was changed. The ruling became that if a soldier was in hospital for 21 day when wounded or sick for 30 days he was entitled to seven days home sick leave and then would return to his own unit if they wished or could be transferred to another unit.

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