大象传媒

Background

My Father, Thomas John Meredith, was born on august 15th 1918 in Caerphilly, South Wales. He was unexpected by his almost 40 year old mother who already had 6 other children. He was very much the baby of the family and spoiled by his much older sisters. Spoiled with attention that is, because the family like so many others were very poor.

Like so many of his contemporaries my father was obliged to leave school at 14.
There was no money to further his education. Two older brothers, Ben and Dai were already trained miners and took my father on as an apprentice collier. He quickly learned his dangerous trade and at 18 years of age became an independent collier in his own right.

These were the nineteen thirties, a time of depression, unemployment and misery for many British people. My father was lucky to be in employment. On the other hand his father had left the family to their own devices and now my father was obliged to keep his now ageing mother from the poor house. His brothers and sisters had their own families to look after and could do very little to help.

After nearly 7 years underground it was now the summer of 1939. There was talk of war and the government finally took action to prepare for the worst.
Nowadays an average 20 year old chap would be finding his way in the world, chasing girls and making plans for the future. My father was in for a cruel twist of fate that would cost him 7 years and 195 days of his life.

In May 1939 the Military Training Act was passed. This stated that men aged 20-22 rears old could be called up for 6 months military training. There was just one call-up before war was declared 鈥� in June 鈥� the first ever conscription in Britain in peacetime. My father was among those young men.

ARMY LIFE BEGINS

He had been assigned to the 19th Field Regiment, 1st Division, Royal Artillery as Gunner Meredith serial number 9322665.

His new dog tags would accompany him to many places around the world. After months of training he was shipped out to the British Expeditionary Force in France in January 1940. The first destination was the Franco-Belgian border area.

The autumn and winter of 1939 have been designated as the so-called 鈥楶honey-War鈥�. There was no fighting going on but for the troops in northern France this was no picnic. When winter came, it came with a vengeance. Most men were billeted in farm buildings, such as barns and outhouses. My father was issued with just one army blanket to keep out the cold and was forced to spend the nights with full kit on to fight the elements. The only visitors were hordes of rats that ran over the soldiers bodies as they tried to sleep. It鈥檚 no surprise that there were casualties due to exposure and still not a shot fired in earnest.

Once the German offensive started after may 10th 1940 things quickly heated up.
Such was the speed of the German advance, my father鈥檚 unit was forced to continuously fall back to avoid being cut off and captured. It was hard work to set up the field gun, man it, fire it and make sure of enough ammunition supplies. They were hardly in a new position or the order came to move out.

My father鈥檚 unit came under fire many times. One of the first shellfire bombardments from the enemy proved to be a rude awakening. The first shells burst very nearby with a deafening crash. Three men in the unit panicked and ran. My inexperienced dad was about to join them but was grabbed from behind by Sergeant Gill, an old soldier who had seen service in the First World War . 鈥淣ever run Tom, hit the deck and keep your head down !鈥� he shouted. The advice worked and when the shelling eased off they were forced to man and fire the gun as best they could with three men short. In the evening the three men came wandering back sheepishly and said they had taken cover in a ditch. Nothing was said and the incident was laid to rest. In the comfort of your easy chair it鈥檚 easy to say this was cowardice. But when death stares you full in the face no one knows how they will react. The three men involved proved on many other occasions to be good soldiers, so who has the right to call them cowards?

Constantly on the move the unit hardly had time to rest or even to eat. Many a time they were about to slaughter or cook a chicken or pig they found at abandoned farms only to be ordered to pull out, on the double. They spent days with nothing to eat but raw eggs they had managed to gather up in the haste.

At one farm they stopped they came across an old man with his grand daughter who had refused to be evacuated. He cooked some eggs for the unit but no sooner had they settled down for a few hours rest when two German planes appeared out of nowhere. They began to strafe the farm and everyone ran into the barn for cover.

Then a small miracle happened, they could hear other aircraft and these proceeded to attack the German planes and managed to shoot them down. This was the only time my father saw British planes and they saved him and his mates from an almost certain death.

The officer in charge of the unit, a certain Captain Hankey, 鈥榲olunteerd鈥� his men for rearguard duty. He was often to be found in the forward OP ( observation post ) surveying the area with his binoculars. The Germans were pressing forward so hard that Hankey was sometimes almost in eye contact with them. My fathers unit got out of sticky situations on more than one occasion. Once they were almost outflanked and racing through a village found that carts had been placed across the road to stop them. The driver of their truck was an experienced London cabby in civvy street and skilfully 鈥榮kittled鈥� his way through this barricade and on to freedom.

My father had been suffering from acute stomach pains. At first he put it down to bad diet and stress. But things got worse and he reported to the medical officer who was pretty certain that his appendix was playing up. He ordered my father and one other private to leave his unit and head for Dunkirk.

With his mate Hutchinson Peder, better known as 鈥楤utch鈥� he joined thousands of other servicemen who were walking towards Dunkirk. They had no map and often were not sure which way to go. Often asking or being asked which way to go, people followed the largest groups, hoping they knew the right direction.

Strange things happen in war and walking along the road they came upon a partly burnt out naffy wagon. Of course people had abandoned all sorts of vehicles and equipment but this they thought was strange. Being hungry ( they had been for days ) they looked into the van to see if there was anything edible left. Lo and behold there was still a box of dark chocolate bars 鈥� heaven ! Munching away on this unexpected feast they were astonished to see that there were also cigarettes left on board. How curious, all the Woodbines were gone but the more expensive Churchmans nr 1 and Three Castles were still in abundance. Someone of simple taste had been there before them. Not wanting to leave anything for the Germans the two of them loaded up with 鈥榗iggies鈥� and carried on down the road.

They were almost in Dunkirk on June the first in the late afternoon when another stroke of luck came their way. They came upon an officer and a number of Coldstream Guards. 鈥淒on鈥檛 go to the beach men鈥� he said, 鈥渃arry on to the key wall, there are boats waiting鈥�. An hour later they joined a queue of men on the jetty waiting for the boats. Another officer overseeing the embarking process noticed Butch and my father鈥檚 bulging packs. 鈥淲ell done chaps鈥� he exclaimed 鈥淚 see you still have most of your kit鈥�. Just as well he didn鈥檛 check the contents !

When it was their turn a small fishing boat pulled alongside the jetty. About 10 men including my father piled into the boat manned by a man in his fifties who was accompanied by his young son. 鈥淎re you taking us out to a larger boat ?鈥� they asked the skipper. 鈥淣o mate, I鈥檓 going all the way so hold tight and don鈥檛 fall overboard. I can鈥檛 stop to pick you up and this is my last trip鈥�. Little did the soldiers realise at that moment what huge risks these fishermen had taken and were about to take again. These men risked everything to save their fellow countrymen. Without doubt unforgettable heroes.

They chugged into Ramsgate harbour just after dawn on June the second, weary but oh so grateful to set foot on British soil as free men.

There followed a time of debriefing, reorganisation and some well earned leave.
Posted to Darley Dale in Derbyshire training was resumed. My father鈥檚 stomach troubles seemed to have disappeared but after a while he came down with a heavy bout of flu. He was sent to a hospital at Morpeth in Northumberland. Why so far away ?, well that鈥檚 the army for you. Anyway, once recovered he was ordered to remain at Morpeth to help with guard duty. Apparently there was a P.O.W camp near Morpeth for German airforce prisoners. According to my father these prisoners had the 鈥楲ife of Reilly鈥� and often had better food than their guards. One day new orders came through. Troops who had seen action were sometimes sent to strengthen other regiments and my father was also posted to another artillery regiment, the 137th Field which was originally based in Blackpool.

My father felt he had had enough adventures with his old regiment little did he know what was to follow with the 137th.

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