大象传媒

This is the memoir of Trooper John Raymond Wilson 558713 of Matlock in Derbyshire. It is an account of his time as a wireless operator in a Sherman tank serving in the Royal Tank Regiment 4th Armoured brigade. It was written in May 1994 for his seven year old grandson, Jonathan Pearson.

Preparations for D-Day and a visit from General Montgomery
It was in April 1944 when at the age if 19 I came face to face with the reality that I was going to very soon, become personally involved in fighting in the Second World War. Before that although I had joined the army as a band boy entrant in April 1939 鈥� six months before the declaration of war, the duties I had performed had been very remote from any sort of action, but now I knew for certain that was all going to change. Following seven months training in the skills need to become a member of the crew of a Sherman tank- wireless operating, tank and vehicle driving and tank gunnery mainly but with small arms training 鈥� rifle, machine gun and pistol shooting as well, I was deemed fully trained.
So it was that in April 1944, I found myself posted in a party of reinforcements to the Headquarters squadron of the 4th Armoured Brigade. This brigade had returned to England a few months before after 4 years of fighting in the Western desert (Egypt), North Africa, Sicily and Italy. It was obvious to us right away that we were joining a battle-experienced unit because the shoulder badge they wore was the renowned 鈥楧esert Rat鈥� (really a gerbil). For the first time since I鈥檇 joined the army I was no longer living in a barracks or an army camp of tents and huts.
The 4th Armoured Brigade was virtually occupying whole of the town of Worthing a seaside resort on the South coast of Sussex. Every empty house and hotel had been taken over by the army just as it had been along the whole of the South coast of England, to billet troops. Ordinary streets which today are full of parked cars were then full of the vehicles of war 鈥� tanks, bren-gun carriers, lorries and dumps of supplies and equipment.
Following our arrival we were given sleeping quarters in a room of a house in a pleasant tree lined avenue and to our surprise found the house next door still occupied buy its proper family. It must have been very strange for them to have a Sherman Tank on the road outside their house. Fortunately the lady of the house would occasionally ( when her rations would stretch to it ) make us cups of tea. Like the few civilians left in the town she couldn鈥檛 help but guess something really big and extraordinary was going to happen and if we were ever an inconvenience they bore with us.
Very soon we were all absorbed into the squadron and found ourselves slotted into whatever work or duty was need to be filled. By now we had all been issued with, on sewn on our Desert Rat brigade badges and I felt very proud 鈥榯o be one of the mob鈥�. I found myself allocated as a wireless operator on a Sherman Tank. However instead of being a member of a normal five-man crew this one only had three men. There was, besides the driver, the turret gunner and myself. The gunner, like me, was a 鈥榥ew boy鈥� and his name was Tony. The driver, though was very experienced something we were to be very grateful for in due course. He was called Arthur but known to every one in the squadron by the nickname of 鈥榯he Count鈥�. It was a name he鈥檇 got stuck with in Italy for some reason. As my name was Wilson I was of course known as Tug, as was every other Wilson through out the three Services.
Now, to get back to the reason why we were only a three-man tank crew instead of the usual five. To explain that I鈥檝e got to give you a rough idea of what an Armoured Brigade actually was. First of all it consisted, in the main, of three armoured or tank regiments. One was called the 鈥楾he 44th Tank Regiment鈥欌�� the second 鈥楾he 3rd County of London Yeomanry鈥� and the third was called 鈥楾he Royal Scots Greys鈥�. Each of these regiments could put into action 50 battle tanks, together with a squadron of 鈥榮oft skinned鈥� vehicles. Lorries and trucks which supplied them with ammunition, food, fuel and oil and everything the tanks in action. This supply squadron went under the code name of 鈥楾he B Echelon鈥�. To help make it a complete fighting unit the brigade also had a regiment of infantry (foot soldiers) to co-operate with the tanks in battle. This regiment was called 鈥楾he 2nd King鈥檚 Royal Rifle Corps鈥�. Finally to give the tanks and infantry some heavy backup the brigade included a regiment of heavy guns called 鈥�25 pounders鈥�. This was known as 鈥楾he 4th Royal Horse Artillery鈥�.
In the Brigade HQ squadron, amongst a lot of vehicles and soldiers mainly concerned with communications and so on were 5 tanks like the one I was on. When the brigade went into action each of the tanks regiment I have mentioned would have one or sometimes two of these tanks with them. But our crew would be the usual five members, as we would take on a wireless operator and a gunnery officer from the 4th R HA. A second wireless operator was fitted into the tank in the front by the co-driver鈥檚/machine gunner鈥檚 position, and in action I would operate this set and be in contact with the tank regiment. The usual wireless set in the turret would be operated by the artillery wireless operator in contact with the 鈥榖ig guns鈥�. The artillery officer would at as both tank commander and direct the fire of the big guns as required by the battle tanks through my radio. So we were literally a mobile observation post in the centre of the action.
I hope all that hasn鈥檛 been too boring, but its important to have an idea of the organisation and set up of an Armoured Brigade to help you understand some of the things which happened in Normandy.
Having said all that I鈥檒l try and take up where I left off in Worthing. I have a memory of the weather being always warm, sunny and pleasant, which was fortunate I suppose because there was a lot to do and it was all being done out of doors. Tony, the Count and myself were very busy on the task of waterproofing the tank for a 鈥榳et landing鈥� to a depth of six feet. The biggest job was sealing the engine compartment with a material called 鈥榓sbestos compound鈥�. It was very much like a sort of grey plasticine which was both waterproof and heatproof and had to be thoroughly rammed into all the crevices where water could get in. It was a very tedious job. The best way was to use your thumb and we all ended up with sore thumbs at the end of each day. The exhaust vents and air intakes at the back of the tank had tall steel chimneys welded over them so that they would be clear of the water. They looked rather funny actually and gave rise to a lot of remarks like 鈥楩rying tonight鈥� or 鈥榃hat鈥檚 that a tank or a submarine with it鈥檚 periscope up鈥�?
Strangely enough it was a very relaxed and happy period. The discipline in a battle experienced unit was very different from anything I鈥檇 experienced in my five years in the army. There was a strong feeling of mateyness and comradeship between all ranks and even the officers were the same. They seemed to have earned their respect by their abilities and leadership qualities rather than the rank on their shoulders. As I said before the weather was very good and a stretch of Worthing beach had been cleared of barbed wire and mines that had been put there against the threat of invasion in 1940 and we were able to go swimming there in our off duty time. Several organisations like the 鈥榃omen鈥檚 Institute鈥� the 鈥榊MCA鈥�, and other volunteer groups run by the local people ran canteens, where at night soldiers could go to buy tea and buns or modest hot meals like bangers and mash, and use a room set aside for quiet pursuits like reading or writing letters. However any letters you wrote could not be posted in the town letterboxes or Post Offices. We had to leave them unsealed and give them to the squadron officer who would read them and make sure there was no information in them which would give away the preparations we were making which were obviously for a sea-borne landing somewhere. It was little things like that which made you realise things were for real. Then there was the secret room. One very large house, which in better days before the war must have been a private nursing home or something similar, was the Brigade headquarters where the Brigadier (a sort of junior general) and his officers were planning the Brigade鈥檚 part in the invasion of France. We didn鈥檛 know that of course, but you would have to be pretty dim not to put two and two together. One of the very strict duties of the nightly guard patrols, which we had to mount in turn, was guarding the secret room in the Headquarters house. It was kept heavily locked and no one was allowed in it without a special pass.
Then the big event occurred about the middle of May. 鈥� Monty鈥� came to inspect us. General Montgomery is reputed to have visited every unit taking part in the invasion and spoken to them and I can well believe it to be true. The whole of the Brigade was formed up in three side of a square formation and after Monty arrived, the usual military courtesies, dispensed with he walked along each rank looking at each man as he did so. He had the most piercing blue eyes and I鈥檓 sure every man there felt the same as I did, that as he passed you he was looking straight into your eyes and somehow you felt that you had to make sure that you didn鈥檛 let this man down. At the end of his inspection he got up on the bonnet of a jeep and signalled to us all to gather round him. He then spoke for about ten minutes about the campaign to 鈥渓iberate the whole of Europe鈥� in which we soon be playing a part, and he gave us a lot of information about what a huge operation it was going to be. There鈥檚 no doubt it was pure theatrics, but it worked and you felt you trusted and involved if the Army Commander could talk to you like this. It was a far cry from the useless Generals of the First World War.
A few days later we really got the massage that things were hotting up. The machine guns and ammunition were issued to us. The big gun (75mm cannon) had been fitted in the turret when the tank was manufactured so we just got the ammunition for that. It was packed in stout wooden boxes, three shells to a box, so unpacking it and stowing it away inside the tanks was quite a heavy and tedious task. We had about 120 shells to stow away, fifty were armour piercing (solid shot), fifty were high explosive, ten were high explosive with time fuses and ten were smoke shells. The belts of machine gun ammunition, 500 bullets to a belt were pre-packed in metal boxes with quick release catches on the lids. These had to be stowed handy to the machine gun s (Browning .303鈥檚), one of which was in the turret fitted along side the big gun. The machine guns that were smothered in thick, gooey grease had to have every bit cleaned off with the guns stripped down to their tiny working parts then lightly oiled, reassembled and fitted into their mountings in the tank.
It was an easy enough task, just very messy. The three of us got down to the job together, smoking many cigarettes between us and using mounds of cotton waste and talking about what was likely to be happening soon. The Count, being experienced was able to give Tony and myself a lot of tips about how to go on in action. We were to realise when the time came, how very helpful a lot of the things he鈥檇 told us were.
For a day or two things went very quiet. A sot of calm before the storm, but one little incident always stuck in my mind from those quiet moments. Every soldier in the army when in barracks, or camp, soon gets used to being rostered for at least two duties, at regular intervals. One is guard duty, which I鈥檝e already mentioned. The second is cookhouse fatigues - spud bashing (potato peeling), washing out cooking utensils and being a general dogsbody. I was on that duty one day scrubbing out a particularly vicious roasting tin when the cook sergeant came to me and said 鈥楾ug, will you go to Sainsbury鈥檚 and fetch a tray full of bacon they are slicing for me鈥�. The squadron rations being issued in bulk meant the bacon ration came to the cookhouse as an uncut side. The cook sergeant like most resourceful soldiers had got round the manager of Sainsbury鈥檚 to have it sliced on their machine. So I made my way to the shop a few streets away. Rather self-consciously I approached the two girls on the bacon counter and feeling like a little boy on an errand for his Mum said 鈥楥an I please have the sliced bacon for our cookhouse鈥�. They smiled and disappeared into the back of the shop reappearing a few moments later carrying between them a very large heavy metal tray piled with bacon rashers. I started to take it from them, holding it in front of me. It was very heavy and awkward to hold. They voiced what I was already thinking when they giggled and said 鈥榊ou鈥檒l find it much easier to carry it on your head鈥�. They helped me to get it balanced and held steady, both hands raised grasping it; then, standing either side of me they both kissed me on the cheeks and said 鈥楪ood Luck, Tanky鈥�. Exit, one blushing soldier feeling about ten feet tall.
As the month of May drew to a close, we were gradually brought more and more into a state of readiness. Our personal arms were issued to us. The standard weapon for a member of a tank crew was the service revolver, but in addition we were issued Sten gun (a light hand machine gun) and ammunition. Then finally a box of hand grenades and smoke bombs and a box of mortar bombs for the turret mortar bomb thrower more or less completed our weaponry. We were issued with two boxes of 鈥榗ompo鈥� rations. Each box held tinned food in the form of soup, stews, cheese, margarine and jam. There was enough for 14 men for one day or one man for 14 days or any combination of these. The pack even had in it toilet paper, sweets (boiled), salt, matches and cigarettes too. To boil water for drinks or to heat food there was a 鈥楾ommy鈥� cooker on each tank. It was sort of double burner Primus stove felled by petrol. When not in use it folded up into its own tin box about the size of today鈥檚 average video player. For a quick brew up of tea though, the Count showed us how to fill a square biscuit tin with soil or sand, about half full, slosh into it a pint or two of petrol stand back and light it with a match. Stick a pan of water on it and there you were.
To our surprise then, we got another two crew members making us up to the full five man crew of a Sherman Tank. We felt a bit miffed, wondering if our special observation post artillery link job had been changed, but the reason became known at a briefing we had to attend on the afternoon of the 1st June. There, we were told that we would be landing 鈥檕n the other side鈥� with tactical brigade headquarters (TAC HQ) and until such time as the whole brigade had landed and fully deployed into action we would fulfil the role of Headquarters protection. No details were given as to where 鈥榦ver the other side鈥� might be but hearing it said like that set the pulse racing a bit faster. We were also given orders to be on one hour鈥檚 readiness to move. I didn鈥檛 realise it then but that was to be an almost permanent state of affairs for almost a year. As soon as the briefing ended we all lit cigarettes and stood to attention but the squadron commander had one more bit of advice for us. 鈥� Should anyone wish to make their Will there are blank forms available at the squadron office鈥�, he announced in quite a matter of fact way. Quite a few of u s thought it worthwhile to do just that, not that any of us had much to leave , just a few pounds in the Post Office Savings Bank, but we knew it would make everything easier if 鈥� a bullet had your name on it鈥�.
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