大象传媒

The Second Army were banging shell after shell into the German lines to cover our withdrawa1 and as we lay in the mud we hoped that everyone found a target. Eventually we got on a boat, manned by REs and crossed over safely, notwithstanding a bit of mortaring by a suspicious enemy. Sergeant Smith had been wounded during the fighting but had absolutely refused to go to hospital as he didn鈥檛 want to be a POW, and wasn鈥檛 in too good shape when we got to the other side, so as we set off walking towards Nijmegen, carrying our cameras, film and arms. It became a bit of a strain, so the first house we came to, we forced an entry, found a bed and laid down and went to sleep; seemingly only minutes later I was awakened by a British corporal and two men, poking their bayonets at my rear; they thought we were Germans but were soon disabused of this idea and they took us to a First Aid Post where Sergeant Smith had his wound dressed and were given a lift in an ambulance to Nijmegen. From there into hospital for a day and the following one we flew back in a Dakota to England, as our pictorial record of part of the action was of paramount importance, and as we were the first survivors home, received a tremendous and most embarrassing welcome.
The pictures and film were processed and released to the news reels and newspapers, and were published world-wide and later we were told that at 14 shillings (70p) a print they netted 拢156,000 for the Ministry of Information, who were our ultimate bosses and as we were part of the Army Public Relations set-up, we naturally came under them. We were informed that we had each been recommended for the British Empire Medal, but with the inscrutable way that the Army works, we were later told that due to the widespread newspaper publicity we had received the award would not be possible. I felt very bitter about this, the second time I had been an 鈥榓lmost鈥�. It is not a question of 鈥榞ong chasing鈥� but a regular soldier鈥檚 career will often be influenced by what he wears on his chest, and soldiering was my life and I had been cheated, not once, but twice- So Be It!

After a couple of days rest we were given a week鈥檚 leave, during which I paid one of my infrequent visits to my home and parents, who were pleased to see me and made quite a fuss which I must admit I didn鈥檛 feel displeased about and, at the end of the week, returned to Pinewood from where we rejoined our unit in Holland.
When we got to our port of departure, which was Newhaven, we reported to the Transport Officer, who rubbed his hands with glee and remarked that we were just what he had been praying for and signed us over in charge of a draft of 180 men who had been wounded in France, hospitalised and were being returned to action and who didn鈥檛 have a single N.C.O. amongst them, and thus were 180 individuals from a score of different regiments for whom we were now responsible until we handed them over to the Transport Officer on the other side. They had to be documented, hadn鈥檛 eaten for hours and the ship flatly refused to feed them as they were supposed to have their own food for 48 hours.
What a cock- up. However, Sergeant Smith and self got to work, forged a ration requisition, including cigs and chocolate, commandeered a truck, found the local supply dump and bullied the N.C.O. in charge into giving us what we wanted, hinting that we had 180 Paratroopers ready to take his place apart if he didn鈥檛 cough up. As we were Parachutists and dressed as such, complete with red beret, the poor soul had no reason to disbelieve us and we got all we wanted and returned to the dock. The troops were then called out, lined up and as they filed past the end of the truck, were told to give their number, rank, name and Regiment, which was written down, and were given 50 cigarettes, bars of chocolate and two 24-hour ration packs each and then marched onto the ship in a much happier frame of mind.
At this point the Transport Officer came along and, with a stunned look on his face, asked where we got the 鈥榞oodies鈥� from and weren鈥檛 the troops in a good frame of mind? He was told that, in answer to the first question, we had had an airborne supply drop and to the second it was all a matter of Para personality. Poor bloke, I am sure he had never met anybody like us before and I expect he preferred not to in future.
So the boat sailed, and as we had also got loads of tea, sugar and tinned milk, we asked the galley crew to make us pots of tea for the lads and they turned a bit 鈥榮troppy鈥� and told us to get lost. So I informed the Chief Officer that he had 180 young men aboard who had all been wounded in action and were being denied some tea and was this the way to treat these young heroes? Adding that, of course, if they were further refused I wouldn鈥檛 be able to stop them taking over the galley for themselves.
He was a man of discernment and ordered the galley crew to keep the pot boiling all night, and the troops, who incidentally would never have dreamed of doing any such thing, were as happy as possible under the circumstances and, at the end of the journey, many of them thanked me, mostly saying that having to go back into the Line was bad enough but to be treated like a bunch of waifs and strays, whom nobody would be responsible for, was very morale-lowering. They were a dejected bunch before we got them but a bit of leadership, plus mixing and eating with them, worked wonders. I hope they all survived.
After leaving the ship, and having handed our charges over for onward transmission to their various destinations, we hitchhiked our way to Holland, where our unit was now stationed and after meeting all the blokes, and having a celebratory evening, we commenced work the next day. At that period it was slow, rotten work for the infantry, clearing the enemy away from all the canals and, in our area, up to Maastricht across the Maas Canal. It was dangerous work for the P.B.I. all mines and booby-traps, plus the odd battle with the enemy, and we were hard put to get any decent filming done.
About this time I heard about a Marine sniper, who had a novel way of dealing with the Wehrmacht, and got permission to go with him on one of his frolics to try to record it. It was only because I was a Para, well versed in the subtleties of silent movement that he would allow me to accompany him. So early one morning, before daybreak, we set out.
We crossed over our own lines and penetrated theirs until we came to a wooded part with a farm a few hundred yards away, worked our way round it until we were at the back and then waited - sure enough, just as he had predicted, the place showed movement, the cooks were starting to prepare their Teutonic breakfast, with many comings and goings, but still he did nothing, until at last a figure sauntered over to a door, opened it and went in.
"That鈥檚 it," he said, "there is always somebody has an early morning crap. We will just give him time to get his trousers down and nicely settled on the seat. He deserves that, as it will be his last one."
Then, taking very careful aim, put a shot straight through the bog door, which banged open, as the presumably dead German, fell against it, and there he was, lying halfway in and out of the doorway in all his glory. I wonder what his last thoughts were. What a sordid way to go.
Strangely enough, there wasn鈥檛 any rushing about at the farm; the shot must have been unnoticed amongst the general noise of a new day dawning. We slipped quickly away, quietly and completely unseen, and returned to our own lines. On the way back he told me that he had done this often, from the early days in Normandy onwards, and he reckoned that they never cottoned on to how it was done, thinking, perhaps, that their own people were settling old scores; but what an ingenious way of knocking off your enemy, catching him when least expected. After all, who expects to be shot when on the throne!

Eventually the Maas was crossed, and our section set up shop near to Maastricht, and, as Christmas was coming, we were making the usual preparations, and the front was fairly quiet and we were, more or less, at a loose end and short of money to buy the booze, and other odd bits for Christmas Day. We were also mixing very freely with the local Dutch population, after being invited into their homes and we would always supply the food to eat whilst there, which was acquired by devious means, plus a bit of barter with the Americans, who weren鈥檛 too far away. The things we could get for Iron Crosses, Luger pistols, even tins of corned beef had to be seen to be believed.
However, it struck Dennis and myself that the main theme of any conversation we had with the Dutch was that they hadn鈥檛 got the cooking-pot, or a spare bed, or practically every item of household goods you could more or less name, so we had a chat about this and agreed that we should go into the household supply business. We had our own jeep and a very good driver and we put it to him, as a proposition for getting hold of some cash and he instantly agreed
So we about gathering a few orders for various goods and set out for a village in No-Man鈥檚 Land: i.e., had been fought over but neither side was occupying. We got there without stirring up the hornet鈥檚 nest, and, as far as our own side were concerned, we were Army Film Unit going to get some forward pictures. We always did, by the way, because after all it was our raison d鈥檈tre and wouldn鈥檛 have been playing the game not to work at the same time.
Well, we sorted out the various items we had been asked to get, plus a few more, and returned to our village and promptly got rid of everything and gained quite a few guilders, and when the word went round the village that we had kept our promise, the orders came pouring in.
It was embarrassing to hear the pleadings of these people because what they were without was really the things we take for granted; they asked us for everything - from needles for sewing to complete machines, bed clothes to mattresses and everything in the kitchen, including, believe it or not - a kitchen range for cooking on.
We managed to get them everything they required and we even set up one young couple, who were about to be married, with a complete home: tables, chairs, settee, pots and pans, knives and forks, etc., etc. These things we gave to them as a wedding-present. People in our country just don鈥檛 realise what the Germans 鈥榥icked鈥� off ordinary people: if they wanted a thing, they took it, and really all we did was re-dress a wrong.
The best run we did was quite funny; it was to get various things, including a mattress, and we passed through our lines as usual but with a notable exception; the Military Police were on duty at the particular road we were going to use and naturally they stopped us and asked us where we were going.
鈥淭o such and such a village鈥� we said; 鈥淲hy?鈥�
鈥淥h didn鈥檛 you know, we are going to take it over to-day as an
Observation Post, ready for the next push.鈥�
鈥淚 suppose you want to be first to get some pictures as the blokes come in?鈥�
To say we were shattered would be an understatement; we hadn鈥檛 reckoned on being pestered by local action whilst doing our bit for the Dutch, but if we didn鈥檛 go forward we would lose face and, possibly, our freedom as well. So I said
鈥淭hat鈥檚 right, Corporal, you know the Army Film Unit - always first on the job鈥� with an aplomb that none of us felt.
鈥淐heerio. See you later鈥� and off we went.
When well clear the driver said
鈥淲hat the hell ate we going to do now?鈥�
鈥淛ust drive to the village while we think鈥� said Dennis, and think we did.
鈥淗aving come this far we can鈥檛 go back without the goods鈥� said I.
鈥淥.K.鈥� said Dennis, 鈥渂ut how? What if we get shot-up and lose the Jeep? A fat lot of good we will be then!鈥�
Then one of those brilliant flashes came over me and I said
鈥淪hot-up. That鈥檚 the answer. We鈥檒l get the stuff loaded and put the mattress on the top, quite openly, and one of us can be tied to the mattress and bandaged up and we will get back past the Police, as they will think we have a wounded bloke on the mattress to make him more comfortable, and save him being jolted around in the Jeep.
鈥淲e鈥檒l never get away with it鈥� said the driver, but Dennis agreed that, in the words of the S.A.S. motto: 鈥榃ho Dares Wins鈥�.
So we dared - and won; the vehicle was loaded with the mattress tied on the top, and the driver and myself volunteered Dennis to be the casualty, and wrapped some bandages round his head and hands, and when the troops arrived, tied him on top and set off.
There had been no opposition to the occupation, other than a bit of shelling, which was the perfect excuse, and when we came to the check point we just said that the shelling was nasty, and we had a casualty, and were waved past with shouts of,
鈥淕ood-Luck, pal, you鈥檒l be all right.鈥�
When we were well clear of the area, we stopped and fell about with laughter, interspersed with screeches from Dennis of 鈥淕et me off this bloody thing鈥� which we eventually did and set off for our billet.
We had a good laugh about it afterwards, but we agreed that enough was enough and that would be the end of the help for our Dutch friends.
But it wasn鈥檛 the end at all. The villagers had been complaining about the lack of milk, and everything else that it would make. They knew where there was a herd of cows at an abandoned farm, but they were afraid of being shot that they wouldn鈥檛 go and get them. They were only a couple of miles away but they didn鈥檛 know how close the Germans were to the herd, they thought perhaps the Germans were looking after them for their own commissariat, but the challenge was too much, so we decided to investigate.
One of the local Dutch Underground offered to show us where these animals were, and we all went on foot to a vantage point, and, even without binoculars, they were clearly visible and with no sight of Jerry around at all, but the Dutch lad wouldn鈥檛 confirm this, so we contacted the nearest infantry for information and they said that, as far as they knew, Jerry was not in the immediate vicinity, so we decided to collect them that evening, and what a pantomime that turned out to be.
It was that period between light and darkness that, in Scotland, we call the 鈥榞loaming鈥� where movement isn鈥檛 easily noticed, that we set out and, without any mishap, reached the cows. With us were the underground lad and two Dutch farm hands, they were needed to get the cows moving, as our knowledge of cattle rustling was confined to the movies and we weren鈥檛 cowboys - in any case the cattle would only know Dutch commands.
We were almost certain that there wasn鈥檛 any enemy about, as the Dutchmen pointed out, they wouldn鈥檛 have left them to roam, so we gave the signal to get them moving quickly just in case. By this time we were in amongst them, so as not to be seen, and they moved so did we, bent double, and the Dutch equivalent of 鈥楪iddup, Buttercup鈥� softly spoken out was supposed to start them off, but they just 鈥榤ooed鈥� and shuffled a little, and then it happened.
The Driver who was behind one of them saw that it had lifted its tail and he was deluged. Cursing and swearing he un-slung his rifle and belted it over the behind, at which cavalier treatment it bellowed, and took off, and the rest bellowed and followed suit, and, of course, all our stealth was now in vain. They must have trotted for about five minutes, with us streaming in the rear, fortunately in the right direction, and a few minutes later they were safely penned up, ready for distribution amongst the villagers; but the poor old driver - he stank like an Egyptian toilet and failed to see what was causing all the hilarity.

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