´óÏó´«Ã½

This story was submitted to the People's War site by Diss Learning Station on behalf of John Murray, and has been added to the site with his permission.
The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

I was born in 1925 in Charlton, South-East London on the river Thames. From our house you could have walked to the Greenwich Flood Barrier and the Dome (had they been built at the time) and in the opposite direction to Woolwich, the home of the Royal Artillery, and also a couple of military hospitals. In my teens I saw many men from the hospitals in their ‘Blue’s’ some on crutches minus a leg.

After training I attended school in Woolwich where they had an army cadet force, the Royal West Kent Territorials. I could not get into the army quick enough and on 5th January 1943 signed up with the Black Watch in Perth 400 miles from home.

I was posted to the 1st Tyneside Black Watch based at Hamilton. Whilst there I spent a month at Rothsay and trained at the Kyles of Bute naval base which had lovely flat beaches ideal for training with assault boats. My Regiment had now become a part of the 49th Division. After training we moved south, some going to Norwich, Sheringham, Kessingland, Southwold and Lowestoft. We were ordered to Southwold where our H.Q. was established at St. Felix Girls School. Our C.O. was heard to complain that when he pressed the bells in the bedroom or bathroom marked ‘Ring for Mistress’ nothing happened!

It was at this time that we learnt that a 10 mile coastal restriction area, stretching from the Bristol Channel to the Wash, had been introduced. Also the assault boats in which we’d trained were to be replaced by support craft with American crews. We therefore had to train in disembarking using a ramp on each side of the bow.

We were then ordered to move to a camp in Thetford Forest for battle area training. We were lucky enough to form an Honour Guard, dressed in our kilts, for the King when he arrived at Thetford station prior to reviewing his troops.

Shortly after this we embarked, by train, to the coast in preparation for D-Day. We travelled via East London passing only a short distance from my home on the opposite bank of the Thames.

Out to sea was an area called ‘Piccadilly Circle’ where the fleet formed up in assault formation before proceeding to the target. We landed late afternoon, up to our chests in water as the Captain made sure that the boat was not stuck on the beach. We advanced on a broad front as quickly as possible in order to join forces with our troops ahead and then advance to the German positions. This was the general pattern on each day, with support troops continually joining us, until June 26th. Then, supported by tanks, we advanced at dawn with my Company (A Company) leading. We were caught with heavy enemy fire and we knew that we were in a war! Unfortunately we lost our C.O along with 2 other officers and, due to the unsuitable nature of the terrain for the tanks, we were forced to withdraw.

With heavy casualties we were then pulled back from the Front Line for a couple of days rest.

At dawn on July 1st it was back to Rauray to try and consolidate the position. We were then attacked in full force and Captain Whitehead, our battle historian, relates that our captured troops were driven forward ahead of the SS troops. A mortar shell landed in front of me and my chest was pierced by shrapnel the force of which lifted me up and dropped me onto my back in a ditch. At the same time my tunic was ripped to shreds.
I was unable to see what was happening around me but I heard the German troops passing by. I was then left only with the sounds of the injured and dying filling my ears. It then became very quiet.

Sometime later I heard gunfire approaching from the rear and eventually directly overhead. I then received gunshot wounds to both legs. Shortly after this I heard the voices of our troops around me. Luckily I was found, placed on a Bren gun carrier and taken for treatment to my wounds. Our loses that day were horrendous. 100 killed and a further 300 wounded or captured.

On the evening of the 1st, Maj-Gen. ‘Bubbles’ Baker sent the message to our Regiment: ‘My congratulations on the magnificent stand made by you today. You have today made a great name for yourselves, not only in the Division, but in the army as a whole. I deplore the casualties you have sustained but am gratified to know that the gallant band who remained on point 110 were successfully relieved’.

Back at base they dressed my wounds and sent me to the general hospital at Bayeux. They recorded that I had been lying wounded on the battlefield for 12 hours. My right leg below the knee was amputated due to gangrene; my left leg, just below the knee, had received a bad wound with a further couple lower down the leg and a full length plaster was applied; my chest wound was left open. The surgeon came to see me the next day and said that I’d had a bad time of it and that my right leg had been amputated — shades of Woolwich and the men in blue sprang to mind. I was airlifted by Dakota to the Radcliffe Infirmary at Oxford and underwent further surgery including a pin through my left ankle. The leg was placed on a metal ramp and a wire was attached to the pin with weights on the end, the traction being applied to keep the bones apart until they healed. Unfortunately there were no surgical steel plates and screws in those days.

I was then evacuated to Worcester and the following October to Bishops Stortford, which was nearer to home. The following November the plaster cast was removed from my leg. They then stood me up and immediately I passed out! The following mid January I was moved to Roehampton to be fitted with my replacement right leg. I was discharged from there on January 31st. The stump of my leg was measured at 6.25 inches — 6 inches or less would have attracted a larger pension.

A full 100% pension, which in 1919 this was set at 40 shillings! (£2.00) but by 1949 this had increased to 45 shillings! (£2.25).

I was sent to Egham on a rehabilitation course and it was decided that a clerical job would offer me the best opportunities. Subsequently I was invalided out of the army on May 31st 1945.

Luckily I obtained a position with Moss Bros. based in Covent Garden where the Accountant took me under his wing, and years later I also qualified as an accountant, whilst at Granada TV.

© Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.