大象传媒

"This story was submitted to the People's War site by CSV/大象传媒 Radio Nottingham on behalf of James Henry Blackburn with his permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions"

We who were privileged to take part in the Second World War, no matter how minor a part, are now a dwindling band. Soon we shall all have dipped below the horizon then there will be no-one to say how it actually was. The official histories give the broad picture but not everything was always spelled out. This tale concerns one such oddity.
The scene is set ten days or so before D-Day in southern England. We were all in sealed camps, guards on the gate, no-one allowed out without a pass. We had been issued with various artefacts including self-heating tins of hot chocolate for survival and also new printed French money bearing the stamp of the British Military Authority. I often wondered after the war what effect this flood of new money had on the French economy. But not at the time!
Our camp was at Brentwood in Essex and being an artillery regiment all the guns and limbers and gun tractors (or quads) had first to be loaded on ships at Tilbury. So on the 28th of May 1944 we moved out and parked everything on the Southend Road. The whole of this road was a gigantic vehicle park, each item of equipment allotted its own space. What an organisation. This day was Whit Sunday - not your pagan Spring Bank but Whitsuntide when white robed children celebrated Pentecost before the war when Notts played Surrey at Trent Bridge before a full house. When England was a gentle civilized country, when a gay party was a happy gathering and ecstasy was what you felt on hitting a four through the covers or your sweetheart smiled at you! But I digress.
The next day we moved off in the early hours to Tilbury docks. There awaiting us was an American Liberty ship the Lee S, Overman. These Liberty ships were welded together - no rivets. It was said that the Americans could build one in 4 days.
So there we were lined up by the cranes- just a few hours and all would be loaded up. But no, apparently not. This was Whit Monday and no self-respecting Tilbury Docker would work on such a day without a powerful sweetener. As the authorities were not prepared to pay, they duly came out on strike. How bizarre. Democracy gone mad. The greatest invasion in history stalling on the intransigence of the Dockers Union. Did Julius Caesar or William the Conqueror have similar problems? I take leave to doubt it.
Well, of course, the gallant men of the Royal Engineers soon arrived and come nightfall everything was stowed away. And when the great day dawned and off we sailed down the Thames heading for the beaches, who should be waving us off but groups of Tilbury Dockers, back at work now of course.
Bless their hearts!

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