大象传媒

My grandfather, Walter Michael Martell, was born on 27th February 1911 at number 14 Rose Valley, Norwich. In 1984, when he was 73, he wrote some notes about his life which were discovered after his death. These notes included various reflections on his war-time service as an anti-aircraft gunner during which time he saw action in North Africa and Italy.

Walter Martell died, in Norwich, on 25th April 1995.

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"September 1940 was my call-up date for reporting for army service. I left my wife Edna and children - a girl aged one and half years and a boy of six months - to face life without their father and the ever present possibility of German bombers putting an end to everything, as at that time there had been many such raids with death and injury to many civilians.

At that time, 1940, by no means had everyone anti-bomb shelters. There were several Anderson shelters on the side of Langley Street (Norwich) where our house was situated and Edna and the children, Patricia and Barry, were found a space in one until such time as we had our own in the garden of number 23.

So, on the 16th September 1940 off I went with instructions to join the 51st L.AA. Devon Regiment at Laindon in Essex, meeting with several other chaps from the Norfolk area on the train and some of us destined for the same unit. Our training on the camp situated near to the Thames estuary was constantly interrupted by aerial dogfights above and many times we had to resort to nearby slit-trenches for cover.

The following two years were given over to gun practice on a mobile Bofors Anti-aircraft gun and an aircraft predictor and we moved to various parts of the British Isles, with practise landing exercises mainly at Loch Fynne in Scotland.

By now I was an acting sergeant in charge of a Bofors Gun, Morris Tractor and Bedford Truck, and a team of nine men.

We set sail in company with various units from Birkenhead and were destined for landing in North Africa. Our ship was the "Tegelburg" and in convoy with many others, with a naval escort. Between Gibraltar and Tangiers after an alert on the presence of U-boats - or a practice for such a contingency - the "Tegelburg" zig-zagged into another ship in the convoy causing utter chaos and with a huge dent in the "Tegelburg" which began to list almost immediately. All personnel assembled on deck stations were requested to move to one side of the ship in an effort to improve the list.

With the impact of the collision many of the "Tegelburg's" crew leapt into the sea, convinced that we had been torpedoed. In the dark, the lights on their life-jackets helped in their being brought back to the ship.

After the ship captain's inspection of the damage he decided to make for Gibraltar rather than Tangiers (which would have meant the end of any more action in the war for any of us as we would have been interned in Morrocco).

The subsequent landing after emergency repairs to the ship in Gibraltar was a tame affair, almost as if we were holiday makers. That episode was the only violence I encountered in North Africa as, apart from routine positions for the protection of guns of a larger calibre, the only enemy we met were in barbed wire compounds and were no longer a threat. This suited me well as I have always had an aversion to violence.

Then on to Italy and eventually we did take part in the action of storming of the gigantic monastery at Cassino, but without facing the enemy eyeball to eyeball and we were on the fringe of things, which again suited me as my prominent wish was to return safely to my wife and children.

During my service, fate was again kind in that on one occasion on getting the Borfors into action position my wrist suffered a fracture of the scaphoid bone and, consequently, having been sent back firstly to a Field Dressing Station and then on to a Field Hospital, took no further part in any military action as the wrist fracture led to downgrading from "A1" to a "B" category and "soft" jobs in administration with second Echelon in Brussels.

In 1945, on discharge, I rejoined my family, thankful that they and I had come through at least physically unscarred and happy to settle down to an ordinary family life. My experience in the forces caused me to think back to my father's time in the 1914-1918 war and to wonder if the dreadful years he endured in France had a bearing on the years that followed by changing his personality from being warm and amiable, into a harder and at times brutal person.

Taking up "civvy" life again on discharge from the army with seventy-five pounds in gratuity money I arranged a holiday in Great Yarmouth for the four of us, which we really enjoyed after the years of austerity, raids and general disruptions, and the rest of my gratuity was spent on new clothing for us all, at least covering barest necessities as we had war-time clothing ration books.

Then back to the shoe trade for me which began to move from forces footware to fashion shoes for ladies with happy prospects for Norwich jobs.........."

Miscellaneous Memories of the War.

The chilling message on the radio by Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain on the morning of 3rd September 1939.

My anxiety to get a house for my family before my inevitable call-up.

My lie to Mr. Lambert (Landlord) by telling him I was in a reserved occupation, when my call-up papers were already burning a hole in my jacket pocket.

Leaving Edna and the children at Thorpe Railway Station on departing for service duty.

Getting acquainted with the other fellows on the train with whom I should be rubbing shoulders for some time to come.

Being kitted out and getting a lot of laughs at the sight of each other in strange and in some cases ill-fitting clothing.

Facing the cutting scorn of Bombadier Hutchinson at drill instruction on what a shower we were.

Getting my face smeared with boot polish - at his instigation, through getting prolonged marching drill caused by my larking on parade - a punishment by my fellow swaddies.

The endless boning of the boots for a high shine, polishing of buttons and "blancoing" equipment.

Getting a short leave to visit home and family from Scotland and walking from Thorpe Railway Station (to Langley Street)in the small hours through streets derelect and strewn with water pipes and rubble following a blitz by the Luftwaffe.

Getting home to Langley Street and finding the house empty and lifting debris off the bed covers before retiring.

Cycling to Reepham for reunion with Edna and the children.

Remembering the remarks of our Battery Commanding Officer after several personnel were killed in North Africa, namely "real casualties at last"

Having to be pushed back from a Field Dressing Station to a hospital for treatment in the form of a plaster-cast from fingers to elbow as a result of a fractured scaphoid.

Whilst positioned to protect a battery of American 120mm guns with instructions to lie "doggo", and watching a flight of Stuka dive-bombers pass over so low we could see the pilots, who did not see us through the camouflage.

Disappointment in not being able to rejoin my unit and missing Tony Moore, Arthur Kemp, Sidney Leamon, C. Mason, Tubby Howlett, Hipperson our hair-cut man and others.

Arriving in Italy with the offensive summer heat.

Playing and singing with my guitar at a tented camp in a village called Pampisford near Cambridge, when one of my ditties was "Goodnight Little Girl Of My Dreams" and Tubby Howlett, a butcher's boy from Attleborough, used to ask me to sing it again and again.

Coming home from a weekend leave by hitch-hiking from Pampisford with a fellow from Norwich without realising the difficulty of getting back on Sunday by midnight.

Adding to our troubles when my companion fell into a trench whilst getting to our tent.

Being on "Orders" next morning for being AWOL and relieved at getting off with a rollicking.

Gunner Prince from Liverpool who would spend his cash on the same day of receipt and borrow tooth-paste, shoe-polish and "blanco" for the rest of the week.

Sergeants who turned to card games with at least several going to bed stoney-broke.

The whole squad of us, on the command "eyes right" doing just that but everyone bringing his right arm up as well, to the consternation of the CO of the regiment.

Training on Loch Fynne in Scotland for landing exercises.

Helping with harvest in Scotland and being repaid with sumptuous meals at the farmhouse.

Watching the pounding day after day on Monte Cassino.

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