大象传媒

This story has been written to the 大象传媒 People's War site by CSV Storygatherer, Pamela Buck, on behalf of Arthur Good. It has been added to the site with his permission and Arthur fully understands the terms and conditions of the site.

Continuation from Part 2 - Story A6190535

Whilst lounging there I realised how tired and hungry I was, but I was able to review the day's events. Running down the L.C.I. steps and conscious of others falling over the side to disappear under the water, looking back on the beach to see some lying, waving and shouting, some were staggering and some were lying very still. The lads who were hit whilst wading through water and they were ignored as we pushed on. I saw two elderly people dressed in night attire running to across a field, then a puff of smoke, a flash and I didn't see them again. Diving into a ditch to avoid shell and mortar fire and finding the others had done the same thing previously, but they were still there, lifeless. The irony of war; I dived into a ditch alongside a more or less new BMW motorcycle and I couldn't afford a decent push bike. Germans, French civilians and British soldiers were still lying where they had fallen, and French people coming out of their houses waving but totally bemused at the day's events I had no idea at this stage what casualties the Allies had suffered. We were warned to expect that we would lose about a third. Back to the present and I thought, "tis no wonder I'm tired and hungry"; I hadn't rested or eaten since last night and we were now about 12 or 15 kilometers from the beach. I ate a portion of dark ration chocolate and was promptly sick. Never could stand dark chocolate; back to the present.

It transpired that the Battery to which we were heading was now in the capable hands of the Paras and Sword beach was now safe from shelling from that direction. We were now free to tackle other objectives. The Captain decided that we would take the nearby village of "Amfreville" and gave the order for the mortars to drop a few on the village to soften things up a bit. Alas, as the bombs were dropped into the mortar barrels they wouldn't fire due to the soaking the detonators had received during wading through water.

We then dumped our bicycles and headed on foot towards the village. I didn't at this stage agree with the method with which we were approaching the village. I thought that at least we should send a couple of scouts in to reconnoitre the place, but it was not my do, I had to follow orders; however, experience had taught me to hug the wall at the side of the road and keep my section tight behind me. The road to the entrance of the village was as a bottle neck, the top end of which had a house wall on either side. Beyond this it opened out on to the village square. I hugged the right wall and to my left the Troop was going forward ion extended formation. As soon as the first man was in view to the square and apparently to the enemy a machine gun opened up and the lad on my immediate left went down, the Captain had two through the wrist, his batman went down with one where he couldn't show anyone but me, the sergeant had one across the top of his head giving him a permanent parting whilst others had bits and pieces from bullets and about their person. The lad on my left had taken four or five across the stomach, one of which had obviously gone through the main artery. He dropped but only lasted a minute or so. We then withdrew to patch wounds and reorganise. It was then decided to send in a couple of scouts to weigh things up. On their report it was deemed safe to rush the place and take pot luck.

There was very little resistance in the village and we were soon in control. As we moved through we cleared any resistance, took prisoners etc and it was then decided that we had advanced to the required position to halt, dig in and await the arrival of the rest of the Commando Brigades. They had been held up more than we had because their job had been to clear up the villages, hamlets etc on route which had apparently cost them dear in time and men. However we started digging in on a line at the far side of Amfreville and I found myself on the far right of Number 3 Commando with the French Commando on my right. We were settling in when the enemy decided to attack. They came across the field in front in arrowhead formation at about 700 yards and of course everything opened up and we were pleased to see a few drop before their Commander decided that we were too much for them and they withdrew. By this time it was raining so we gathered we were in for another soaking. The French Commandos had taken advantage of the horses used by the Germans in the village that had been wounded and then shot; they could eat horse flesh, I wasn't that hungry.

As darkness began to fall we settled down in our slit trenches and hoped that the night wouldn't be too hectic. We had landed, fought our way 15 or so kilometers inland, and we were dug in. "D" DAY had drawn to a close.

(Addendum - "D" Day is military jargon for a specific day on which any operation would commence and had no reference whatsoever to the myth published by the Media that "D" Day was meant to be deliverance day etc, etc. On any operation we went in at "H" Hour or "D" Day; which was a target that we could train for, weeks before the event.

"D" Day Plus One. June 7th 1944

It was dark now and somewhat quieter and I was ordered to move to a position ten yards to my left. I moved (with my section) and started to dig in again amongst the brambles.

In front was a natural rise in the ground which afforded a good amount of cover and below this I started to dig in. The object of digging in, was to stand in a trench up to waist deep and hope that when the bombardment started you could duck down and be more or less covered from shrapnel etc. The night was noisy, rain had started to fall, so we were in for another soaking and were expecting acounter attack at any time. At one time planes were heard and leaflets began to fall informing us that Yanks were back at home sleepig with our wives etc and that we might as well pack in, otherwise we would be pushed back into the sea before morning.

We obviously ignored this and concentrated on the actual. During the night we had a mortar and shell bombardment every hour for twenty minutes. As daylight broke I was peering into the mist and I was fascinated with the jewels formed by the rain clinging to the leaves of the brambles etc. I suddenly noticed a particularly large jewel shimmering in the hedgerow and as I peered closer I was dismayed to discover that the jewel was in fact a pool of water in a man's ear. Upon closer inspection I found a dead parachute captain who had lost a foot and had died trying to draw attention to us. His trail was well marked in the wheat field behind him.

Throughout the rest of the day we were straffed at regular intervals always expecting a counter attack. At midday I was again ordered to move some fifty yards to my left, (reinforcements were obviously coming in on our right), I dug in once again and this time lined my trench with a parachute, (luxury). My bren gun as erected above the trench ready for whatever and with two to a trench we were able to rest and watch alternately. The bombardment was intense (twenty minutes every two hours) and there were casualties to move and tend after each session. Somebody needs the toilet (what toilet?)

At the far end of the field a couple of lads appeared carrying dixies etc. food was in the offing. The lads came along the trenches dishing out porridge, bread, jam and tea, what a party. When food wasn't available we managed with emergency rations warmed up over Tommy cookers, (a bit of heat formed with a tablet lit with a match). In this way I was able to make porridge, tea etc, providing you were covered from the rain.

During a lull I spotted a Chateau to my left and thought "there must be water" so I crawled along the hedgeback and bramble and wwas surprised to meet up with mates from my ex troop and was able to check up on the latest news, casualties etc, then I crawled back with the latest news on my old mates and a small bucket of water. Just then Jerry opened up again and I had to make a dash for it, drop the bucket on top of the trench and dive in. The barrage was intense, two or three badly hurt and my bucket reduced to a sieve.

On another visit to the Chateau I was surprised to see a beautiful young girl laid out on a bier on the front drive of the house. She looked so calm and peaceful and I can only assume that she had been put there to alert us to the fact that civilians too were suffering. There was a shall hole in the roof of the house under which was probably her bedroom.

After one barrage the usual call went out for stretcher bearers and the lad in the trench to my left was calling out. I crawled over to offer help and was surprised to see Ginger badly wounded with most of his bottom blown away. He was loaded on to a stretcher and away the lads went, running across the field. Unfortunately the rear bearer tripped and Ginger was tossed off the stretcher and rolled across the ground. Needless to say Ginger was dead before they got him to the aid post, five hundred yards to the rear. This sort of thing went on for about five days and nights which was totally alien to Commandos. We were used to going in, doing the job and out again. It seemed that we had gained about ten miles inland on a front of some one hundred miles and were to hold this at whatever cost until the necessary force of reinforcements had arrived to enable us to break out of Normandy. However they decided to pull us back from the front line (we had taken a stationary beating) and give us a break about a quarter of a mile back in the woods.

We rested here for a day (not free from the barrage but less troublesome) and then we started night patrols into enemy territory etc, etc.

On one such patrol we had to check on a particular copse that was supposed to be manned by Paratroops. When we got there (in no mans'land) we discovered why communications had ceased. (The trenches, equipment etc, were blown apart). We hadn't time to bury them so had to leave, knowing that the graves commission would be along in a month or so. It was during one of these excusions that I discovered a field of potatoes. Two of us went back next day and under fire managed to get about a stone of potatoes. I also managed to lead a young bullock back to our clearing. He was butchered and a good meal was had by all. We didn't realise it but someone else had got to know and next day we received two geese with the Colonel's compliments, and did we have a bit of beef to spare?

On one occasion we went amongst the enemy at night, they were tired and snoring as we crept amongst them, but we came back with yet another prisoner. This went on for a week or so; we were slowly being whittled down and on one occasion my bren gunner along with the sergeant and myself were blown high as he stepped on a mine. The sergeant and I were fortunate but the gunner was gone. The sergeant and I couldn't take him back right away, but later on (evening) three lads went out and brought him in. The usual procedure, when there were any dead, was to set to after the night patrol and give them a burial in a shallow grave, put a stick at the head, and place their beret or steel helmet on it. At a later date, a month or so, the Graves Commission would remove them to a proper cemetary. In the meantime we were using the vegetable plot of a chateau and a spare plot on the village green of "Amfreville", as a burial ground. The gunner (Robbo) had been lying on the stretcher all night and as I picked up the stretcher at the rear end to carry the stretcher to the grave, the lad in front was too quick and lifted too high too soon, consequently four or five pints of blood laying in the stretcher poured back and soaked me from waist down. Robbo was laid to rest (in several pieces) then I took the stretcher to the nearby duck pond to wash it, myself and uniform. I waded in to thigh depth and managed a decent job, very wet but it was raining anyhow. We seem to have had a lot of rain in that June/July.

"I was alone and I shed a few tears".

Later, on a day patrol (two of us) it was my turn. I thought I had three Germans covered but unseen ones had me covered and opened up with a machine gun. I ran for it but before I reached cover I took one through the knee. The French commandos fetched me in and that was the end of Normandy for me.

That night I was laid on a stretcher in a big marquee along with a score or so of others. Here we were looked after by lovely nurses in crisp white starched uniforms and white starched squares on their heads. They were the first females I had seen or heard for well over a month. I was lying (off the ground) with a roof over my head (albeit canvas) and it wasn't raining on my face. I had a blanket which was so cosy. I had been spirited from Hell to Heaven.

Next morning we were transported in a field ambulance over ploughed fields to a "make do" landing strip and flown to England. I have no idea where we landed but it was obviously some hospital where I had an operation to clean up my wound. They used penicillin (the latest drug to offset gangrene).

During the next day or so I was moved up country and finally put on a train bound for Worcester/Hereford. I was dropped off at Worcester and ended up in Ronkswood Hospital. In the meantime Joyce reeceived a telegram to say "Corporal A. Good arrived in U.K."

She was obviously overjoyed until she saw PTO, which said "wounded, more to follow". The more to follow arrived after about five days and informed Joyce where I was. She apparently had no idea as to what extent I was hurt, so was left with the imponderables until she arrived at hospital.
I was fortunate, the lad on my right had lost a foot and in the left hand bed Paddy had lost his leg. There were also several shell shock cases.

The stay in hospital lasted a fortnight or so and then to convalescence near Warwick. We were well looked after near Warwick, the house we were in was a huge country mansion in its own grounds. There must have been a holiday due (beginning of August 44) and I was able to book Joyce into a lovely country house belonging to a Mrs Wright. She was a very benevolent darling who unfortunately had lost her Pilot son during the battle of Britain. She was anxious to do whatever she could and would not charge. She made our stay most enjoyable. We visited Warwick, Coventry, Leamington etc, but Joyce had to return to war work.

When we went to Coventry we were able to see at first hand the result of the 1940 bombing raids. There was utter devastation, in particular we were astounded at the amount of damage inflicted upon the Cathedral. Completely shattered.

My stay there lasted some three weeks after which I was sent to Trentham Gardens (Stoke). More treatment and then I was posted to the Holding Commando unit Wrexham (North Wales).

It was obvious when I arrived there that they hadn't a clue what to do with us and we milled around doing various odd jobs until in January 1945 I was sent down to Worthing to arrange "Digs" for the lads returning from Germany. I was pleased to see some of the lads again and was also very pleased that Joyce was able to spend time there staying at the house of a wonderful old couple who really took to Joyce over a period of a few weeks.

(continued on Story No. A )

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