大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People's War site by Alex Kane of CSV Scotland on behalf of Archie Wylde and has been added to the site with his permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

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The only time during the war I truly felt my life was in danger was when I fought when we saw action at Wadi Akarit in Tunisia during the North African campaign of 1942.

I was a gunner in B Squadron of the Staffordshire Yeomanry and as our tank was making its way out of a dry riverbed it lost its track. As hard as we tried we knew there was no way it could be fixed without help and we would have to wait until it arrived. We were then given orders that the regiment was pulling back, and that we would have to stay with our tank but to batten down hatchet as a German counter-attack was imminent.

It was a scary thought, knowing we were stranded, that darkness was about to come and with it a possible German onslaught. The desert darkness and silence enveloped us like a cloak. Then all of a sudden the sound of German mortars could be heard in the distance and we were soon hammered by shells. This seemed to go on for an eternity but eventually silence fell upon us again. Then cutting through the night came the sound of a motorbike, getting closer and closer. We had no idea whether it was one of ours or one of theirs and thought it safer not to go and find out. We could hear the motorcyclist dismount and walk around but no voices.

What seemed like the longest night of my life ended when a rescue party arrived to take us back to our regiment. Our tank later recovered but before we left the area I took a look around and found the very motorbike we had heard through the night, but no sign of its rider. In its dispatch bag was a Newcastle edition of the "Weekly News". We never found out what happened to its owner.

While in North Africa I also had an incident which has left me thinking for many years. At El Alamein I was given the order to fire 3 high explosive shots at a German staff car. I may be wrong but it may have had Rommel's Afrika Korps replacement, General George Stumme in it. History has it that he died of a heart attack during the 1000 gun bombardment of the German lines, but I am not so sure.

As I said, Wadi Akarit was the only time I was in fear of my life, maybe it was the fact I was left with so much time to think of what could happen as we sat there stranded. On D-Day I was one of the lucky ones who made it up Sword Beach even when our tank was hit. We all survived but our tank was lost. I ended up as a replacement gunner for another tank all the way to the Rhine. I was later replaced by the tank's original gunner when he was fit for service. I must have been a lucky soldier as not long after the tank I had been in was hit and the gunner who had replaced me was injured.

The recent VE Day celebrations were in stark contrast to my own back in 1945. I was near Celle when we celebrated VE Day. I say celebrated, but I think for most of us it brought a mixture of relief and anxiety. I thought to myself, 'All I know is soldiering, what was I going to do now?' In fact I was on duty so never did much celebrating. We did however manage to get a bit of ground and use it as a football pitch. In fact neither VE Day nor 1945 saw the end of soldiering for me as because of my youth I had to stay in the army and was in the 3rd Royal Tank Regiment until October 1946.

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