大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by Norman Wigley of the 大象传媒 Radio Sheffield Action Desk on behalf of Mr George Martin, and has been added to the site with his permission. The author fully understands the site鈥檚 terms and conditions.

This edited account is taken from the book 鈥淐assino to the River Po. Italy 1944-45. A personal account of life and action in a tank troop鈥�, written and published by George Martin.

Other parts to this story can be found at:

Part 2: A7832702

Part 3: A7832964

Part 4: A7833152

Part 5: A7833549

Part 6: A7833710

Part 7: A7833837

Part 8: A7833972

Part 9: A7834043

Part 10: A7834179

I was born in Garston, Liverpool in 1916 and was working on defence contracts in the building industry from the outbreak of war, and served in the Home Guard, until joining the Royal Armoured Corps at Catterick in February 1942.

On completion of basic training, driving, wireless and gunnery, the next move was to Sandhurst for six months, finally being commissioned in March 1943. On arriving in North Africa in July 1943, I joined 鈥楤鈥� Squadron, 2nd Lothians and Border Horse as a 2nd Lieutenant tank troop leader and served in that role in all the regimental actions during the Italian Campaign.
With the end of the campaign in North Africa, the Regiment was ordered to Italy and we set sail in mid-March 1944. Our training area was some miles south of Cassino. A great deal of our training time was taken up with schemes involving tank and infantry co-operation.

After weeks of training and preparation, we now appeared to be ready to move up to the Cassino area. We moved by night and it was still dark when we reached our harbour area. We rested until dawn and could then see that between us and the enemy, stood Mount Trocchio. At this stage we were considered to be on 鈥榮tandby鈥�, ready to move at short notice. It was far from peaceful 鈥� there was a 25 pounder battery just below us firing on the Monastery Hill, and an unseen enemy battery returning fire. Both lots of shells screamed over our heads. This was our introduction to the theatre of war!

BATTLE FOR CASSINO 鈥� MAY 1944..

The morning of the 13th was warm and we were joined by the infantry. Two Bailey bridges had been put across the Rapido River; one had been knocked out and the remaining bridge, Amazon, was the object of concentrated shelling. The cost in both men and materials to establish that bridgehead 鈥� and maintain it had been very great indeed, as we were destined to discover.
Briefly our orders were to cross the Bailey bridge, swing half right and then go forward. This would bring us parallel to a small stream, proceed along the east side until we could find a place to cross and then head for the high ground on our left.
With the infantry on our tanks we moved off according to orders. We approached the last remaining Bailey bridge over the river. Smoke canisters at each end of the bridge created a screen which we hoped would hide us from the sight of the enemy.

The infantry on the tanks huddled down as shells burst around us and a Spandau opened fire on us from the river bank on our left. Glancing quickly towards the bridge, only 100 yards or so ahead, continuous shell bursts on both banks by the bridge as well as in the river, made me wonder whether we would even get to the other side. The Germans seemed determined to smash our only remaining bridge, but fortunately for us, their aim was none too accurate. Once on the bridge, I looked for our objective 鈥� we had to get clear of the bridge, but a clear view was not easy. We crossed the bridge and headed half right towards the stream while our infantry jumped down and headed for the hill feature on our left. The following troop of tanks were now fanning out to my left, and as we went, enemy infantry came out from their cover with hands held high.

Shelling continued as we moved forward, infantry with bayonets fixed, looking for a place to cross the stream. My troop corporal thought he had found a place to cross, but his tracks sank into the soft ground and he was stuck fast. I was ordered by the squadron leader to leave him for now. Further on we found some higher ground by the stream where a scissors bridge could be placed.

A quick call over the radio to the Squadron HQ to report the location brought the terse response, 鈥淕ood work; sorry to tell you though, the damned 鈥楽cissors鈥� has been knocked out, go up the valley, shoot up any enemy and report progress 鈥� out.鈥� Cheering news I thought to myself, almost getting shot up for nothing!

Cautiously we moved slowly forward, feeling very isolated in our little valley. We fired at anything suspicious, and received some near misses. We were obviously under observation. We had by now more or less lost track of time, but it was towards evening and at this point, we were ordered to return to a point near the river we had crossed earlier in the day. My troop corporal鈥檚 tank with the crew inside, lay some 100 yards into no-man鈥檚 land, and there spent a very uncomfortable night securely battened down against marauders! Next day, after the battle had moved forward, the tank and crew were finally pulled clear and later re-joined us.
We were ordered to join the remnants of 鈥楥鈥� Squadron in case of enemy counter attack. We moved to a forward ridge where we met 鈥楥鈥� Squadron. I was joined by Lt. Cliff Joyner whose service had mirrored mine ever since initial training. We shook hands and he wished me luck. Lt. Joiner was killed at dawn the next morning by an enemy infantryman who knocked out his tank with a 鈥楤azooka鈥� at close range as they left harbour.

By the end of that day, we had lost two Squadron Leaders (Major Tom Robb and Major Sheddon Thorburn, MC). Our casualties were light however compared with the others.
The next day was one of limited fighting, although we suffered very heavy shelling and mortaring. It was another day of lovely warm sunshine and we had to move up to a forward ridge, mainly to observe and be in position, should a counter attack develop. We received some very near misses including one heavy shell which exploded only about 8 feet from the tank side. The blast literally blew me down into the turret. Just before dusk, we were recalled to harbour and rejoined the rest of the squadron, feeling as though we鈥檇 been used as target practice!

It was now obvious that the hoped for quick break-through to Highway 6 was a thing of the past. The whole area had been well fortified by the Germans and they intended to fight for every inch of ground, and while the closely cultivated, hilly ground was ideal for defence, it was far from satisfactory for tank operations.

The following days were spent mainly in support of infantry, clearing areas and consolidating our advance. As we moved on, we could see behind us the peak of Monte Cassino, still wreathed in smoke and flame, but eventually it was heartening to see the Monastery Hill, no longer wreathed in smoke, but there in the sunlight, high on the ruins, a Union Jack and Polish flag flying side by side.

At last, the battle for Cassino was over, a bloody and costly affair, the Poles especially having fought long and hard to achieve their objective.

Pr-BR

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