大象传媒

One day a nurse came into the ward to tell us that the war with Germany was over, this was the first we had heard of it, although the war with Japan continued. You can imagine the joy there was in the hospital although there was the fear that we would have to go and fight the Japs. Came the time the Doctor told me I was fit enough to leave the hospital for convalescence. Such a home was at a depot in Ostend itself but no one wanted to go there as every day we saw the chaps from there going past the hospital on their training runs. As it turned out we were sent a few miles down the road to a seaside town called Knocke. We were billeted in a large hotel practically on the sea front. We paraded every day outside the hotel and sent on a training run; all of 100 yards, to the beach where we left to sun bathe all the morning until Tiffin at noon. After Tiffin there was a compulsory rest on our beds after which we could do as we liked. Needless to say with all the sunbathing we were doing we were getting better; it was marvellous weather and I cannot recall any rain all the time we were there, we were all as brown as berries. After a fortnight we had to report to the Doctor to be regarded gradually back up to A1 again. This happened every fortnight but they were not in any hurry to regrade us; I was there six weeks before the Doctor told me I was A1. Charlie Burford and I were signed off at the same time; we were going to miss the place. Incidentally this was the first time I had seen a bidet, all the bedrooms having one. Someone who thought they knew told us it was for washing your feet, so that鈥檚 what we used it for (I know differently now 鈥� definitely not for the feet).

A couple of days later we were given passes for seven days home leave and were taken to Ostend harbour for the journey home. The date was 26th August 1945. After the end of the leave, with an extra day as the channel was so rough we reported back to the convalescence depot from where we were sent to a holding unit and billeted in tents. We reported every day for fatigues or postings. We had always been told back at Bn that we could stay with the holding unit or make our own way back to the mob and the CO would sort it out with the proper authorities. Charlie and I were quite happy to stay where we were until one day he was posted away to be medically discharged, this was the signal for me to get out. I had been getting fed up with the situation, food consisting of comp rations and hard tack, must have been the only mob left that fed on these rations. My chance came a few days later when I was walking through the camp and saw a truck outside of the Officers鈥� lines. I went over and spoke to the driver, who told me he was with the 5th Bn Black watch and was waiting to pick up one their officers, a major,

who was going back to his old unit plus my mob was in a little village on the way through to their area. On hearing this I asked the Major if I could go back with them. As he knew what the CO had said he told me to go away and get my kit; this was done in double quick time; leaving the blankets behind, they may still be there climbed on the back of the truck and departed.
On arrival I walked back into the Bn Orderly Room where I was greeted by the RSM, taken to see the Col who welcomed me back and then sent of to A Coy HQ. I was greeted by the CSM with the words 鈥渨e were told that you had died of your wounds鈥�, I told him I would go and bury myself if he liked. I was taken to see the Company Commander and whilst in with him Dick Viney came into the office as he had heard I was back. He was no longer in charge of the Platoon but of the Signals. I was asked if I wanted to go with him to the signals but seeing as demob was soon to start I decided against it. I reported back to my old platoon but did not know many of the men as the Bn was being brought back up to strength. A couple of days later I was called to the Company office and told to put up another stripe to Corporal. I became a war substantive NCO; which meant that even if I reverted to private or was stripped of my rank I still kept the NCOs pay, unless I lost the stripes for a serious crime.
Life was fairly easy we were billeted in houses in a small village, our main entertainment was to stand outside of the billet and when the farmers came through with their horses and carts would get the horses to stop dead in their tracks. The way to do this was to go Brr at them, which was the same as our whoa. The farmers did not take very kindly to this and if they saw any troops in the street they would whip their horses into a gallop, to try to beat the call of Brr. This went on for quite a while until there was nearly a bad accident caused, so we were ordered to stop. I think it was the best thing to do as it was getting a bit out of hand. It was here I found out the name of the village that I had been wounded in was called Rees. No one ever drew any pay but was money was never in short supply; all we ever did was to sell to the villagers 10 cigarettes a week for 20 marks, which was about a 拢1, in English money, which would keep us in fags and beer for a week. Our cigarette ration was 40 per week from the NAAFI, which we paid for, and a free issue of 50 which was given to all troops abroad. With beer being 3d in old money we quite well off. Though one day there was quite a to do, when I was Coy Orderly Sgt and in the Orderly Room and a L/Cpl I had never seen before walked in to ask about pay. He told me he was in charge of about a dozen or so new lads recently arrived and had not been paid and could I see if they could have some. I went in to see the QM whose job it was to see to the nominal roll who answered my request with 鈥淲hy don鈥檛 they do as the rest of the lads and sell some fags鈥�. When I told him that the lads had no money to buy any in the first place there was a mad scramble by the orderly room staff to sort it out. It meant that an Officer had to go to the field cashiers office in the nearest big town to draw the cash.
Why we were based in the village an elderly German/American lady told us an interesting story about an RAF bomber crew who had been forced to bail out over the village when their plane crashed. It seems that the German troops arrived to search for survivors but found none until they started searching the houses and outbuildings the next morning. The bomber crew were found playing cards, waiting to be captured, in a small shed having decided that they had no chance of escaping waited for the Germans to arrive.
We were in the village for a couple of months and then moved to a place in the wilds called Sandbostel. This had originally been a concentration camp for political prisoners, who had been released and was now POW camp for German soldiers. All our duties consisted of was taking them out on working parties. They were no trouble as, like us, all they wanted to do was go home. These parties mainly went to the nearby wood to chop down trees to supply their own people with fuel for heating etc. A German soldier also ran the camp barber shop. We were the only company there and life was pretty easy; the only bit of excitement being going to the barbers or the canteen. One day when a couple of us went to the barber shop there was someone already sat in the chair being 鈥榦perated on鈥�, so I carried on talking to the chap I was with when this other chap said 鈥� What part of Bristol are you from Corporal?鈥�. This was my first meeting with Lt Jimmy Fry, a member of the Fry鈥檚 Chocolate dynasty whose firm was based in Keynsham near Bristol. He had played rugby for Bristol before joining the army. He was not required to join the services as a fighting man because he was a Quaker and as such could have been a non-combatant.

One day, I decided to go for a wash and whilst in the washroom heard the parade, outside, being dismissed. As they passed me to go their beds there were a lot of men I did not recognise, young re-enforcements. As I was washing I heard the unmistakeable sound of a shot, thinking it was an officer having a bit of revolver practice I ignored it. A few seconds passed when the washroom door burst open and a new young lad told me that someone had been shot. I was about to give the bollicking of his young life when I realised he was serious. Dropping my gear in the washroom I ran down the passage to the room they occupied and was met by a strange L/Cpl in charge who said in a panic stricken voice 鈥渢he bullet just missed me I nearly got hit鈥�. I could see a lad on the floor covered in blood and told the NCO 鈥淏****r you, that鈥檚 the one I鈥檓 concerned with not you鈥�. I sent one lad to get the MO and another the Coy Commander. I thought I might be able to do something for the lad on the floor who was lying on his side with a small hole in his chest where the bullet had gone and also the big one in his back where it had come out and finished in the wall. I had seen enough of these wounds in the past to know that there was no chance for him. I started to ask how it had happened and it appeared that the L/Cpl had committed the serious crime of dismissing them without making sure that all weapons were unloaded. Once they got back to the barrack room one of the lads had pointed his rifle at the lad now dying on the floor and squeezed the trigger; still all I could get out of the NCO was that he had nearly been hit. The OC and the MO arrived together, and as the MO went to the injured lad he died. The Sgt Major the arrived and with the OC started taking statements from the L/CPL and the rest to find out exactly what had happened. The L/Cpl and the lad who had fired the shot were put under close arrest; both, I know, were Court Martialled but I never did find out the outcome. The dead lad was taken to a makeshift mortuary in the POW camp.

We were at the camp another week and, because I had no duties at this time, I was asked if I would go with an Officer, a young 2/Lt just arrived from Blighty, and a driver in a truck to take the body to Hamburg for burial. We went to the mortuary on the morning of the move to collect the body laid out on a stretcher, his clothes had been removed and we had to move him from the stretcher into a rough coffin which had been made by some of the POWs. I wasn鈥檛 happy about this as I thought that he should have at least been wrapped in a blanket. The Officer wasn鈥檛 too happy either but for a different reason it was the first dead body he had seen, let alone touched. With aid of a couple of POW we put the coffin on the back of the truck. The Officer said 鈥渋f you are worried about riding with a dead body you can squeeze in the front鈥�, I told him I wasn鈥檛 worried and got up the back of the lorry and sat on the mud flap boxes. The route out of the camp was lined with the POWs bowed in respectful silence. Our truck was to travel independently, the rest of the Coy, when they left the next day, were going to a town about 15 miles from Hamburg called Hamborn. We were due to stop the night at a small town, and leave the body in the small civilian hospital. When we were about six miles from this town, it was beginning to get a bit gloomy as night closed in. The truck stopped, and I heard the Officer talking to someone. I was, by this time, lying quite comfortably on top of the coffin, it didn鈥檛 look any different from any other sort of box. A REME private climbed up on the back of the truck saying he was on his way to his billet in the town and young Sir had offered him a lift; so I sat up and made room for him on the coffin.

Every time we hit a bump the body in the coffin would bounce about a bit and eventually the REME lad asked me what was bouncing about in the box. I told him it was a body but he didn鈥檛 believe me so I made him stand up and by the light of a match showed him. He stopped the truck and we never saw his backside for dusk, he must have thought we were body snatchers. The driver and I thought that it was extremely funny, young Sir didn鈥檛 think so. What was even funnier was young Sir telling myself and the driver 鈥渢hat if we had seen men killed in action we would not think it so funny鈥� 鈥� he must have thought we had just got off a banana boat. His number wasn鈥檛 even dry; he took our names and numbers as he was going to put us on a charge. Whether he did or not I don鈥檛 know but we heard no more about it.

After we had delivered the body to the hospital for burial we made our way to the town of Hamborn where the rest of the Bn were. Again we were billeted in commandeered houses, everyone in the unit for the first time having his own single bed made for us by a local carpenter. Life seemed to consist of just walking to and from meals; the local rathaus (town hall) had been taken over for this purpose. The big event was going to the railway crossing wand watch the leave trains going through. After a while we moved a mile or so up the road to some German barracks, the Royal Navy had taken these over for some reason.

They could not be trusted to guard themselves so each of our companies had to go up there for a week or so at a time on guard duties, as it turned out our Company was there for a month. What a strange lot the Navy were, they did not get a truck into town but a 鈥榣iberty boat鈥� and were going ashore. Still it was a pretty cushy number and we shared the same mess as the matelots. At lunch times they were issued with a rum ration which we were not entitled to, although it was illegal to do so each sailor would come over and pour a drop of their rum into our mugs, this was known as sippers.

After a while the Battalion moved to a large industrial town on the Rhine, Duisburg. The barracks had a big drill square so it was back to peacetime soldiering.

Eventually, on the 2nd May 1947 I left the Rhine Army HQ and proceeded to York, given a demob suit and was sacked from the Army as I was not wanted anymore.

AMEN

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