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NAVAL HISTORY OF G.T.H GREEN: FROM TEBESSA TO TUNIS WITH MONTGOMERY’S ARMY

The next morning, at the crack of dawn, we started off from Bone heading into the desert for a place called Tebessa. This was the front line where our Army was fighting the Germans. I was driving, the Warrant Officer who had given me such a hard time was sitting next to me and the four sailors were in the back. The roads through the desert were not too bad as long as you kept on them. The dust was something else. 'If you were behind another vehicle it was like fog. However, to start with we were on our own. The bearded horror next to me, told me to go as fast as I could. We were late, so get cracking and that I could not scare him with speed.

I put my foot down and went. Broke every rule in the book. I nearly killed all of us, scorching through a small gully we were suddenly confronted by huge tank transporters (with tank). My speed must have been about 70-80 mph. I could not stop. The brakes were not good enough. There were no discs in those days. Luck was on our side as I came towards the impact. I took a chance and turned off the road into the desert. We hit a ridge in the road but thankfully remained upright, hit the soft sand and came to a halt. I just do not know to this day how I missed the transporter, it was so close.

As we came to a halt I turned to look at the horror. He was as white as a sheet, it had ‘scared him to death’. I thought he would give another rousting, instead he said ‘what a bloody marvellous driver I was and that it was the first time he had been frightened’. I did not tell him how I felt! We became quite good friends for the last few hours I was to know him.

It was June (1943) and the heat in the truck was 120° or more. We sweated it out, no other way! The dust, the flies, no water, I almost thought of Russia with nostalgia. We pressed on and arrived at Tebessa in the early hours of dawn. The people we had come to relieve we camped on a hillside in a copse of trees, (the start of the Atlas Mountains), three miles away from the (infamous) Kasserine Pass. The Germans were holding this pass and making it very difficult for the Army to go forward. A lot of our soldiers had been killed trying to storm it. It was here that Lord Lovatt, Colonel of The Brigade of Guards won his Victoria Cross. His men were all held down by a hail of gun fire. Time after time they had tried to go upward and had to stop. At this is point Lord Lovatt got to his feet and with just his baton (no gun) shouted to his guardsmen ‘Come on you bastards! do you want to live forever’ and calmly walked ahead. The guards immediately got up and followed. Their casualties were terrible, but they took the pass.

Back at the camp we were trying to make wireless contact with HQ. We eventually got through, only to be told to pack our bags and head for Constantine where General Montgomery was setting up his new command, which included 1st and 8th Armies. The thing I remember about Constantine was the enormous gorge. I had never seen anything like it before. Apparently, in the old days, wrong-doers were thrown down as punishment. No one did wrong again!

By this time the Army had pressed on further up the coast and we as the H.D group were following but, further inland. We had a Naval Captain in charge of us now, who was part of the H.D group. He was the one who gave me my orders. He told me that I had to get my wireless truck to an oasis in the desert (unfortunately I cannot remember the name). It was close to Souk El Arba and gave me a week to get there.

Away we went and after lots of difficulties we found the location. We got there in three days so had time to waste. It was here that I lashed my hammock to two palm trees and slept in the open. It was great until the mosquitoes got to know about it, so out came our nets. (I was probably the only sailor who slept in a hammock in the desert). All through the night you could hear and feel the mosquitoes dive bombing you, but it was quite comfortable. I had got used to sleeping in a hammock by then.

Our food consisted mainly of eggs and anything else we could scrounge. The eggs we bought very cheap from the Arabs and bread, bacon, tea, sugar, etc. We had to filch from Army and RAF camps along the way. Our cooking stove was a large tin with holes in. We filled it with wood, used petrol and next to no time we had a good fire going. It was not a very healthy diet or way of life, but we made do.

It was here that I nearly blinded myself. The truck wanted servicing badly before it would start. We had blown down the filler pipe to push the petrol through the carburettor. We all had turns doing this. I blew really hard into this pipe and, instead of standing back I stood still and the petrol came spurting out into my face and eyes. I was petrified. I could not see, my eyes were burning. I knew that nearest medical help was hundreds of miles away. However, I calmed down and decided that it would be better for me to lie out in the sun to evaporate the petrol quickly. Having done just that for about five minutes, I had to take shelter, the sun was too hot. After four hours or thereabouts, slowly my sight came back, my eyes were very sore but at least I could see again.

We only stayed at this location for a few days then off again. The transmitter was only used about six times. It was so difficult not having the right equipment for the job. My little bit of wire up a tree, thrown over a branch was all the aerial I had. We had to repeat messages two or three times before the operator at Algiers could get them correct. The power of my little set was weak, very rarely were we given more than strength 2-3 which made it very difficult for them to read our morse. Sometimes, during our time with the HQ group we were close to an RAF or Army signals truck. I could then ask if I could use their transmitter. They were big powerful sets all fitted into large trailers. The strength of their signals was 8-9, what a difference!

Our next stop was just short of the mountains. On a very open plateau we dug out trenches and placed our bivouac over it, to give us more space. There were no trees for the hammocks to be tied to. To sleep in the truck was too restricted, you could not stretch out and soon you ached from being in the same position. We made things as comfortabIe as possible but we had forgotten the crawlies, scorpions, snakes, spiders, big ones. The scorpions were what we feared most. They could kill a man in agony rather quickly. It was at this location the Germans dropped some parachutists to try and capture General Montgomery or Alexander.

It was about midnight when an Army sentry came] and woke us, telling us ‘get your guns the Gerrys are here’. He told us the direction of the action and we headed towards it. We could see the flash of the guns and hear them. When we got closer we were told by the Officer in Charge to fire at any figure or flash, which we did, expending a lot of ammunition. We do not know if we hit a one. Within an hour the Germans had been beaten and those that had not been killed or taken prisoner were disappearing into the darkness. So we went back to our dugout and to sleep for the rest of the night, wondering what we should find the next morning.

However, by the time we got up, all had been cleared up. That day when I went to our Captain's tent, he told me that if we saw any Arabs lurking about we should fire at them. We would get £1 for each one, as a pound was a lot of money then, but we did have to produce the body to get the pound. We never did get one. The reason for this rather callous order was that the Arabs would inform the Germans if they contacted us. We were only protecting ourselves.

We remained at this location for about 3 weeks thoroughly fed up with heat of the days, cold at night and sand getting into everything, food, water, eyes, hair, ears, nose, there was a continual wind blowing all the time. When the order came to move out we were very thankful. By this time the Army had pressed on towards Tunis with us following in their wake. My orders were to get to Hammamet and set up a station there ready to communicate within ten days. We packed up our gear and prepared to go. Our Captain said we could find our own way, or travel in convoy with the rest of the HQ group.

I chose the first option, preferring to be on our own, although more dangerous, we could please ourselves. Also it gave us time to look around and see the country. I knew the main convoy of the HQ group would take twice as long as us. When we were approaching Tunis we saw the end of the biggest tank battles fought in North Africa. There were hundreds of tanks, German, American, British some on fire some smoking, wrecked shells of tanks which had blown up lots of bodies of all nationalities. The stretcher bearers were getting them away as soon as possible. The sight of all that carnage is still with me, quite clear in my mind, wondering how many brave young men had died in the last hours. We were going in to help but were stopped by the military police. They told us to keep clear, there were a lot of anti-tank mines about. So still thinking about what we had seen, we drove on towards Tunis.

When we arrived there the whole city was in the streets celebrating the Germans departure. As we drove through we had flowers, drink, food, all thrust at us. What a bonanza after our hard times in the desert and mountains. We stayed in Tunis at the home of a French professor. Everyone was so happy, friendly and could not do enough for us. We were the victorious Army and we had thrown the Germans out of Tunis. They really did fete us.

NAVAL HISTORY OF G.T.H GREEN: STATIONED AT HAMMAMET

All good things come to an end. So off again to Hammamet about 30 miles from Tunis. We were following the Army rather closely, they were about two days ahead of us. We could hear the guns and at night see the flashes, as they pushed the Germans into the Cape Bon Peninsula and trap them, they could only get away by sea. The Royal Navy was waiting for them. They sunk so many they gave up trying to get away and resigned themselves to being captured. When we arrived at our campsite the Army was already setting up a prisoner of war camp. There were hundreds of German soldiers all cooped up inside a bit of wire but they were defeated and knew it. Within a couple of days they surrendered 9 completely.

By this time the port of Bizerta had been blown apart. There was not a building left standing. We had a look round and rea1ised what total war meant. A thing I remember very vividly was standing at nighttime looking at the mountains and watching the lightening playing round the peaks. There was no thunder, it was like a firework display. We settled down at the camp at Hammamet. There was not much work for us to do. The Army had pushed the Germans into the sea. They were now a beaten force in North Africa. We enjoyed ourselves swimming, sunbathing and visiting our friend the professor. But we still had the flies, heat and sand in everything. As I was a Petty Officer I messed (ate) with the Army and RAF Sergeants. It was very pleasant to go and sit down in a large tent and be waited on without having to wash up and do any chores. It was a real holiday. We soon forgot the hardships of the last months. A real treat for us was -.swimming at midnight. It was a strange sensation swimming in the sea at night and especially under water.

By this time I had such a wonderful tan I looked like an Arab. We had been there a month when a terrible thing happened. I'll explain. I mentioned before that me and the Sergeants were served by the catering staff of the RAF. One of those chaps was a timid little man who very rarely spoke. He just did what he had to do and went. You hardly noticed him. However, he got on the wrong side of an RSM (Regimental Sergeant Major). He was the highest form of life in the Sergeants Mess. What he sa1d was law. He made the little man's life an absolute misery, whatever he did was wrong. He would make him look foolish in front of the rest of us. We all felt very sorry for him, we disliked the RSM very much but he had the rank.

One day he did something wrong the R.S.M took exception to and he made him run round the kitchen area with a full pack on his back, a rifle and all his marching gear in the full heat of the day. He made him carry on for over 2 hours. He was exhausted, but then he was made to carry on with his job, the temperature in the shade was over 100°. We felt for him, but could do nothing to help. We all hoped that would be the limit of the punishment, but it was not. He had him out the next day repeating the punishment, it was diabolical.

However, on the fourth morning, we were strolling down the beach towards the camp to get our breakfast when we heard the rattle of a sten gun. It was a burst of ten shots, the full magazine of a sten. We started to run toward the camp from where the shots came from. We arrived seconds later to see the RSM (ex legionnaire) lying across one of the dining tables, almost cut in half by the bullets and very dead. The poor little ‘erk’ was standing with the gun still in his hands looking at the RSM and crying ‘I couldn't stand anymore. I had to kill the bastard’. By that time the Military Police had arrived, they took him away and we never saw him again. The RSM was buried two days later with full military honours, a victim of his own viciousness!

Apart from that incident I was enjoying the respite from work. All we did was eat, sleep, swim and go to Tunis for the odd day out. We enjoyed the swimming in the Bay of Hammamet, the water was clear and clean and was great for underwater swimming. We found an empty chalet on the beach which had belonged to the former Prince of Wales, David, now Duke of Windsor. What a magnificent place it was, much larger than an ordinary detached house right on the beach. There was a ceramic tiled path from the chalet to the sea. There was no trouble with the sand or shells on your feet. It was luxury indeed.

We had to be careful in those places, the Germans were always leaving booby traps. One of our chaps had his hand blown off when he lifted a cigarette lighter. You must be on your guard all the time.

I mentioned before going to Tunis. I liked it very much, especially the French part. It was trees and wide boulevards. The Arab Casbha was an evil smelling place and very dangerous for service men. We did not like the Arabs and they did not care for us. We always carried our 45 revolvers around with us. We were not afraid to use them if necessary. We never did have any problems, perhaps they could tell we were prepared for any trouble.

This story was submitted to the People’s War site by Anastasia Travers a volunteer with WM CSV Actiondesk on behalf of George Green and has been added to the site with his permission. George Green fully understands the sites terms and conditions.

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