大象传媒

With my family I decided to reverse the campaign I followed, which had started on June 6, 1944 and finished on February 27,1945 in Germany. The plan was to visit, in addition, some of the Great War battlefields and locations, which the regiment had passed by in the darkness of one night in the middle of September 1944. We would end the trip by visiting the landing area of 6th June in Normandy and the scene of the battles that took place inland from that, on the date of the 60th anniversary.

Our first mission was to visit the place where my last attack was halted on the road between the two German villages of Udem and Weese. A new road had been built, so the old road where my infantry colleagues had suffered such grievous losses just looked like an infrequently used lay-by. However, the path leading to it through the forest looked very much as I remembered it. It was quiet and peaceful apart from some mosquitoes, but before that last attack had begun on February 27, 1945, I stood and watched German shells flying through the air towards the end of their flight and bursting two or three hundred yards behind us.

After reaching the road, the infantry to whom I was attached turned left, at right angles to the forest path, and were led along the ditch beside the road. Something in my training suggested that this was not safe as that is where the enemy would be most likely to focus their guns, so I walked alongside the trees a few yards away from them.

Suddenly shells began to burst all around the area and a machine gun opened up and the entire group of soldiers in the ditch was wiped out. I took cover behind a fallen tree, hoping that this might give me some protection from the shell bursts, but unfortunately I was hit by shell splinters on the back of my leg and shoulders and thus immobilised. Although virtually everyone I had been with, including the remaining South Lancashires officer and my own OP Ak (observation post assistant and radio operator) had long made themselves scarce, with great good fortune, a stretcher party was still within hailing distance and I was rescued and taken back behind the lines.

Despite suggesting to a military padre that I thought I might be away from the action for 48 hours, that was the end of my war. After a day in Nijmegen, I was flown from Eindhoven to Bruges for a week in a nunnery being used as a hospital, before being flown back to Swindon and transferred to hospital in Leicester for a further two months in a hospital there. When the war ended, I was back in Scotland, staying with my mother's family in Newport, Fife.

From the site of the engagement, we drove to the Reichswald Forest War Cemetery where those killed in those battles are remembered. The cemetery is on land given by the German nation to the British War Graves Commission. It was a glorious evening, which emphasised the peace and beauty of the place, which contained thousands upon thousands of headstones, including those of the two South Lancashire Company Commanders with whom I had been on that fateful day - 27th Februrary 1945.

On the way back to the hotel, we passed through the town of Venraij, which was little more than a large village in 1944/5, but is now a thriving town. I spent several days in December 1944 in an evacuated nunnery there overlooking the River Maas. One of my tasks was to report the bearings of the vapour trails of V2 rockets being fired from Germany.

Two other outstanding memories of the time were, firstly, on the afternoon of Christmas Day, watching an American B52 bomber returning from Germany. It flew over the Maas to our side of the river and then the crew baled out. It was heartbreaking to see each parachute being inexorably blown back onto the German side. Secondly, at midnight on Christmas Eve, the Germans in their trenches on the other of the river fired coloured tracer bullets from their machine guns up into the air, which made for a splendid firework display for several minutes.

On June 2, 2004, we visited a museum at Overloon in Holland, where there had been some very fierce fighting in September/October 1944. There is a 25 pounder field gun in the museum, which had been fired by the 76th (Highland) Field Regiment at Overloon at that time.

After a long drive from Holland to Flanders, we arrived at the town of Ypres. This is the town where the Menin Gate was built. A wonderful monument built in honour of the approximately 60,000 soldiers killed in that area during the Great War who have no known grave.

We were present there when the Last Post ceremony was carried out at 8 p.m. This has happened every day all the year round since the Gate's construction, in every year except those of the German occupation during the Second World War.

The following day, we made a tour of the Somme battefields taking in several landmarks, including the Pipers memorial at Longueval, near the South African memorial at Delville Wood. Also, the Cross of Remembrance and the Lochnagar crater at La Boisselle, which was created by exploding a mine beneath the German trenches on July 1, 1916, on the opening day of the Battle of the Somme. And a 'small' cemetery containing the graves of 99 Gordon Highlanders, who were caught in machine gun fire when attacking the village of Mametz.

At the Ulster tower, where there is a plaque commemorating the nine members of Irish regiments who won the Victoria Cross in those attacks, grandson Cameron went 'bullet hunting' in a field lying fallow beside the tower. Up a hill where the Ulsters advanced on that fateful morning lies a variety of military debris regularly unearthed as the local farmer ploughs the land. On the way back up, his Uncle Andy spotted a curved lump of metal extruding from the ground, which on closer investigation turned out to be a complete hand grenade, without the pin. After some clearing of earth with a sharp stone, Cameron was delighted to carry the prize back for the rest of the family's inspection. Only later was he advised that the grenade remained in excellent condition, with the detonator still intact and the explosive in remarkably good condition considering the passage of time! No, he wasn't allowed to keep it with the other less dangerous mementoes that he was able to gather!

From there to the magnificent Caribou Memorial at Beaumont Hamel to the Volunteer Newfoundland Regiment of Canada, who suffered appalling casualties and where in one spot, but one man survived. There too, is found the wooden Celtic Cross and the glorious figure of an unarmed Highland soldier on a cairn to commemorate the participation of the 51st Highland Division, in November 1916, also at Beaumont Hamel.

A small area of ground there still has the Allied and German trenches very well preserved and obvious; there are also several war cemeteries that contain an uncomfortable number of soldiers from the Highland regiments - all lovingly cared for and therefore beautiful.

On to Vimy Ridge, which is a Canadian National Park. On the edge of the ridge has been built an enormous but stately shrine, on which are carved the thousands of names of Canadians who were killed during the conflict. There were four Turnbulls amongst them.

This short account of course does not do justice to the hundreds of places and cemeteries that we had to pass quickly by in the time we had available. The next day we had to make our way through to Normandy reversing my wartime journey. We did however, make a diversion to see the memorial to the 51st Highland Division of World War Two on the cliffs above St. Valery from which they could not be evacuated, and were subsequently forced to surrender, several days after the evacuation from Dunkirk in 1940.

In the afternoon, we finally travelled to the beautiful and peaceful Les Andelys on the Seine. It was from Les Andelys that I went with my regiment, in September 1944, in the darkness of one night, through all the battlefields of the Great War, traversing them as if they had never been. For by dawn the next morning, we were in Mons.

On the Saturday 5th June, we drove up to the landing beach area of Normandy. Our first port of call was the two chateaux near Bieville-Beauville, one occupied by the Germans and one by the British, where I spent several weeks starting in mid-June 1944. The Suffolk regiment finally captured the 'German' chateau on June 28 at the cost of 165 officers and men in an area described as 'the bloodiest square mile in Normandy'.

Although badly damaged, it has now been completely rebuilt. The grounds contain well used and looked after tennis courts and the trees have completely recovered from the battering and devastation of 60 years ago. The grounds are lovely, but we were told that they cover some grisly contents. The family presently occupying the chateau is in fact directly descended from the family who lived there prior to 1944. It was a pleasure to meet them and we were given a most kind and hospitable welcome.

The 'British' chateau, Le Londel, which had been my home for about six weeks, had just been sold and was in the process of being renovated. The marks on the walls, which had been made by shell splinters had all been covered up, but those in the stables building remained to tell the tale of the spasmodic, but persistent, bombardment to which the chateau had been subjected. The cellar in which I had spent most of my nights there had been filled in.

We were fortunate to meet the family farming the land at Le Londel. It was a glorious day, matched only by their kindness and hospitality. We were invited to the home of the parents living next door to the chateau, M. and Mme. Bruand, where we were provided with refreshments and I was presented with a bottle of Calvados, which M. Bruand's father had made there 40 years ago. That was special!

In the afternoon, we watched a parachute drop in the area of Pegasus Bridge and then went down to the beaches at Hermanville. It was beautifully warm, the sun was shining and there were many holidaymakers all enjoying a lovely summer's day. We were all received most kindly, especially by one Frenchman and his daughter, who took some photographs and have since sent them to us. All the houses were decorated with French, British, Canadian and some American flags. It was an afternoon to remember.

Before returning to Les Andelys, we visited the British Cemetery at Ranville. This cemetery, like all the others, is so beautiful and peaceful. It contains the grave of Major Peter Beecroft, with whom I was speaking while he was half-emerged from his tank turret, when suddenly an enemy artillery barrage rained down upon us. I dived into a slit trench below the tank and was less than pleased as the tank moved away as it was my main protection against the shells landing nearby. Unknown to me, he had been killed and his driver was probably unaware even of my presence. I had not been to Ranville before, so it was more than special.

Sunday, June 6, 2004, was another glorious summer's day, which began with another long drive to Caen. Our first visit was to the Caen Memorial Building, behind which on the previous evening, Prince Charles had opened a Memorial Garden for the British forces, which we had hoped to see. However, it had been put 'out of bounds' for security reasons as the 'dignitaries' were dining and making speeches there that same evening.

It was with difficulty that we were allowed even to take a photograph of the building and the flags arrayed outside it. We proceeded from there to the centre of Caen, below the castle where the '3 Div' Memorial commemorating the liberation of the city is situated. It is simple but beautiful.

We had lunch nearby and then drove to Pegasus Bridge via the 'German' Chateau de la Londe. The immediate vicinity of the west end of Pegasus Bridge had been turned into a Fun Fair, noisy and smelling of fast food, and thereby completely lacking any dignity or reverence. A travesty, but the new bridge made a good background for a family photograph!

By this time we had decided to make our way back to the sea front at Hermanville. The traffic was very heavy, so the journey was made with some difficulty. Gendarmes were very much in evidence at every road junction and only those with good reason for going to the beach area were allowed to do so. We were very impressed by the politeness and helpfulness of the Gendarmes, who issued us with a pass to facilitate our progress to Hermanville.

The events of the late afternoon and evening were the only official events that we attended during our stay in Normandy. The first was the unveiling of the plaque dedicated to the East Yorkshire regiment by the present commander of the British 3rd Division. The plaque recalled the events of that memorable day 60 years ago. It reads:

'To the everlasting memory of the officers and men of the 2nd and 5th battalions of the East Yorkshire Regiment who landed on the beaches of Hermanville-sur-Mer and La Riviere in the first wave of the Allied Assault on 6th June 1944; and in proud and grateful tribute to those whose courage that day and in the days that followed was to cost them their lives.
EACH RISKED ALL IN FREEDOM'S CAUSE.'

Close by, there was a small plinth dedicated to the East Yorkshires fellow assault battalion that day - the South Lancashire regiment. This reads:

'The town of Hermanville-sur-Mer was liberated on the morning of 6th June 1944 by the 1st Battalion of the The South Lancashire Regiment (Prince of Wales Volunteers).'

This memorial is dedicated to the memory of the 288 officers and men of the battalion who sacrificed their lives on D Day and in the subsequent campaign to free North West Europe.

Both messages, timely reminders of what happened in those dreadful days of 60 years ago.

After this parade was over, we went to the Hermanville War Cemetery, where the casualties incurred on the beach and nearby are interred. The headstones served to emphasise that the people they represent, some of whom I knew like brothers, just did not come home. Again however, a most beautiful and peaceful place and a service was held there, after which the children of the village placed flowers on the lovingly tended graves. As usual, a most moving time.

The ceremonies came to a close with a reception in the Village Hall hosted by the Deputy Consul General of the Normandy Council and the present commander of the British 3rd Division, when chest badges were presented to those present who had landed on D Day.

Throughout the trip, the weather was glorious and the French people we met so friendly that it was difficult to believe that those terrible days of 60 years ago could ever have happened. Every house was decorated with French, British, Canadian and American flags and the genuine gratitude of the French people was most touching.

We returned home thanking God that those dreadful days filled with death, destruction and dismay, had been replaced by days of life, love and laughter. We must all make the most of them!

Tony Turnbull (Captain, 76th Highland Field Regiment, RA, British 3rd Division)
Ramsay Street, Edzell, Angus, Scotland.

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