大象传媒

Part 10 Rejoined another ship & goodbye to Cape Town.

He rejoined another ship, T.S Devonshire, little knowing that the next stop would be Durban. The usual activities to settle in was over, the ships engines were alive could be felt through out the deck. It was then a dash for a good spot on the deck to have a last look and muse over that wonderful visit.
All connections with the dock removed the ship moved out from the dock and out to sea. So much had happened there mostly good wholesome things. Standing there with the unashamedly watery eye faced that wonder city, the only thing he had to offer in return for their kindness a salute and a wave of the hand.

With time on their hands groups of lads sat around, different stories were told about their stay in Cape Town. The colour ban was over come by some of the lads, seems that with the help of some of the locals it was over the wall and then to share the company of one of the ladies. Maybe they were romanticises over a few pints but that鈥檚 the way of the young. Conquests were far reaching and many. One of the lad鈥檚 one nightstand had tragic results for him, the results of it he tried to hide for weeks. Hot weather and all the things that go with VD turned that good looker into a bag of shit. There came a time when he couldn鈥檛 hide it any further and had to report his condition to the MO. He just disappeared and never rejoined the draft.
Nobody ever talked about it again but I know lots of thought went into the results from this one nightstand.

That Accursed M.O.

Durban was a time away; the food had made the stomach and things angry. Normal army life was almost impossible and hastens to say that he was not skiving. Nothing to skive about, it was just a common tummy upset; all that was wanted was a spoonful of stomach powder. The MO. took a different view and confined him to the ship. At least it gave him a first hand experience of being pined down for no apparent reason. That short stay in Durban would have been very welcomed.The time had come to move out to sea,and with all connection removed we were on our way again. this time that all important Durbin lady stood on the dock wall singing her good-bye as only she could. her farewells a regular thing and in every very touching, it was drmatic and a honest fair-well as her figure and voice trailed off in the distance.

Next stop Mombassa.

It was a short stay there and then we were off to Mombassa and the sea legs were now fully in place. The trip was uneventful except the climate was getting warmer, coupled with this the same monotonous army routine, the only real relaxation to stand under the salt-water shower placed on the deck of the ship. Keeping in some sort of shape took the usual bit of the running around the deck. Not a voluntary thing but a bit of enforced exercise. Entertainment was almost non-existent. Bingo and the trip to the tuck shop were still the total excitement for the day.
Each day the ship seemed to grow smaller by the hour as boredom set in. At last something important. Information was given, why the name 72 Welch Regiment, 295 Army Field Company Regiment was never explained. Anyway at the time it added nothing to the dullness of the place, letter post was non existent but for him with the others the long awaited letter was so important. Those with young families used some connection between old letter mail and prized pictures of them all in happy times. An odd one or two of the quirky ones had very personal items of the girls they had left behind. For many this lack of Mail whatever the contents in the letter was a major problem, letters that were good with family news would be read dozens of times in private and mostly in silence.

At last the open sea had changed to the sighting of land. Sailors moved around the decks to help prepare for the docking. There was a change to the rhythm of the ship鈥檚 engines as she and the convoy started to live up for their entry into the inland waters of Mombassa. It was something different watching the headlands go pass and anchoring in the safety of the inland waters. From the ship the surrounding country looked very tempting and welcoming. He like the rest longed to go ashore and be back on solid ground; anywhere ashore would fill the need of the legs, the land was within spitting distance and might just as well has been a thousand miles away.
This stay had done nothing; (perhaps behind the scenes things were different.) Once again he could feel the ships engines pulsating through the ship鈥檚 deck, added to this the recognised noise of the anchor being lifted. At last they were moving out and back into the Indian Ocean and towards the Gulf of Aden and the Red Sea.

Weather prior to this trip up the Red Sea was hot, now it reached new heights. Air temperature rose by the hour, day or night. There was no way of escaping from it. The sea was looking even more solid as if heavy oil stopped the moving water from breaking the surface. There were times again when he felt he could step over the side of it and go for a walk. In the wake of the ship and the water being built up on the bows and flowing to her stern seemed to be the only things moving.

First taste of really hot weather.

There seemed to be no way of cooling down. Even the ship movement and the large canvas to catch any moving air was rigged up by the seamen but did little to cool things down. Showering on the deck salt-water showers helped for as long as it was used. There was no point in drying off; the body just spewed out more sweat and would be as wet as ever. Nobody on his deck was free from the oppressive heat. Energy drained away and all that could be done was to sit around. Icy beers left in the happy abundance of the times down in Cape Town over powered any other thought. The mouth watered up with the thought of the many beers with the frosted up sides of the glass and what was most cold, it was shear torture imagining that beautiful cold liquid. Warm beer and tepid water were the poorest of substitutes.

Arrived in Egypt

It was the early days he was green to all these extremes. Egypt eventually appeared, at least it was solid land, but now flies added to the discomfort of the daytime heat. This was another new world for him and was to learn that the local people schooled by thousands of years of experience knew how to protect themselves from the heat with clothing worn long and loose and with ample head protection. 鈥淐razy English men (and Welch men,) going out in the new day sun,鈥� hadn鈥檛 changed. It would only be a short time before it became apparent that our clothing was not a good competitor with the sun and the heat the mid-day sun was ignored to prove how clever we were.
Changes from the very high temperatures to the very low at night took a bit of getting used too. The draft moved up country to the camp, now to experience mountains of sand dunes and heat from the sun that hit the road then threw off a heat haze that distorting shapes of the landscape and the things travelling on it.
Irrigation strips of water brought wondrous colour changes to the surrounding land. In all directions beautiful green vegetation gave relief to the glaring white sand dunes. Now he could witness for the first time Camels and donkeys loaded with all kinds of merchandise, it was a proper mixed bag of people riding, people walking; they looked cool enough and knew how to live in the heat of the day.
The newness of it all created a picture to be remembered with eyes that never stopped looking and taking in the wonders of this Old World. It was different; now never the boredom of seeing the same things was over like it or hates it, it was different. Those early hour trips to the camp were t become as normal as any other time.

Latest Camp.

No surprises with the lay out of the latest shore camp. It was typical army, with its permanent buildings and the all-powerful square. Around these things the bell tents large enough to house a section. In daytime the side walls were rolled up to allow what breeze was around to cool the temperature within it, and of course to make the daily inspections of it easier?
This was a first time under canvas; while the weather was being reasonable it added no extra hardships. The bed and net held in the heat took a bit of getting used to but thank goodness young enough to live with it.

Sanitation arrangements.

Sanitation arrangements were crude; the only concession to any privacy was the corrugated sheeting that finished about a foot from the ground. For obvious reasons it was constructed as a portable shed. Change to the position of the thing was regularly, fleshly dug trenches were prepared by the camp orderlies and the repositioned over the new hole.
The hole was fresh enough but the structure of the thing retained some of the uses of the past. Only thing that can be said about it, the billions of flies didn鈥檛 seem to care. Within a short time the place had a smell of its own and that was all that was needed to find the place. There was no toilet pan to park the bottom but a flat place neatly placed for the row of feet. . For the new comer this took a lot of practice but learnt quickly that it was always necessary to shuffle the feet into a sound position before that initial bending of the knee
For some reason this fly filled place was reserved for the lower ranks, the bums of elite needed much better places. Perhaps they had something to hide but could never remember seeing one. (In case that鈥檚 misunderstood it is referring to the toilet.)

Time seemed to have stopped, the British Army answer was to control the fly numbers with metal boxes used as a trap with one end constructed to allow the fly to enter and reach the rotting meat, then to be trapped inside the box. During the day the boxes were collected and the trapped the flies were killed off by smoke. A day鈥檚 catch ran into many thousands. Killing the dam things had little effect for they still seemed to multiply. Their nuisance value was the least of the problems. Any abrasions to the skin on the exposed part of the body was infested with the flies that swarmed around it and was nauseating to watch as the mass of flies moved within its self, looking like a live flower.
Each layer of flies was fighting to reach the moisture of the open wound. Wipe them off and their smashed bodies mixed with the blood from the open wound. Mess from it was revolting! Even the smallest wound took weeks to heal any little nick left in the skin and the blasted flies would find a way in to open it all up again. Night time did bring some relief from the things. It was then the turn of the mosquitoes, protection provided by the mosquito net was a double edged sword, drop the net and it was too hot, leave it up and it was feast time for them. The odd scorpion did cause a bit of excitement when they arrived on the scene. It was always advisable to inspect the bedding or clothing before using them.
It wasn鈥檛 to long before these things became normal place and was able to cope better with them.

Food was up to its usual standard, bloody awful. Again something new to eat, for the first time sweet potatoes were included in the diet. Chip them, boil them and they still needed a hungry body to enjoy them. Again time is a great healer and he got used to them and was able to be swallowed without too many problems.

These were early Egyptian days, the food, the flies and the water had taken a lot of liberties with the stomachs. Holding on to the food was a problem, it would be the only time no permission was needed to break rank and dive for the toilets. Think it was called 鈥榞ippo鈥� tummy. Anyway what ever it was it was all-powerful, there was no time to stand and stare, pants were at the ready long before reaching the latrine. Speed was essential, really unlucky ones were off for a general clean up before returning to the parade ground, even the strongest of the men among them were wilting at the edges, the dead would have looked healthier. Fit they may have been and even with the strength they had, they joined the ever-growing queues outside the MO鈥檚. Whatever their ailment they were there to take his magic portions, (A limited assortment)
Within time his medicine and their tormented stomachs became stronger than the bugs, the bugs gave up and the tummy returned to normal. That privilege to break rank without permission was over and heralded the return to normal army life.

3-11-43 First Welsh.

Within a short time normal parades were assembled, the day had come to join 鈥楾he First Welsh Regiment鈥� all ranks in the Battalion were formed up on the parade ground. Those with the power had decided which men they wanted to promote, selected men were called out and then positioned on the parade ground to head a section of a newly formed platoon, and he somehow had been chosen to head a section and had no idea why? Feelings for this promotion were neither one way nor the other. This big dizzy moment of promotion had come with very few words spoken and had risen to the dizzy height of a full corporal.
Lads standing near were counted off and informed they were in his section. It wasn鈥檛 long before the uneasy feeling of putting men on charges for petty things took over.

Reverted to the ranks.

Another morning had arrived and it was one of those early inspections that crumbled any desire of being a corporal.
Things were going reasonably well and getting no trouble from the lads, and then it happened. Everybody had been hard at it to prepare for the daily inspection. It started off well enough; everything seemed to be going well. Details had been carefully taken care of; all beds laid out army fashion. The big moment had come the observant officer had found a fault; one of the lads鈥檚 had rust on his water bottle cork. There was no way of answering it, that spot of rust was there; sheepishly the only thing to do was reprimand the soldier. Every thing was out of proportion to the amount of effort put in by the lads. If having two strips meant he was to be the agent for this sort of discipline the corporal period was over the corporal thing had lasted a few weeks. This was not a job he could handle and requested an interview with the officer, the outcome of this was that he requested to be reverted to the ranks. There was no regrets, and was as free as he could be in this mans army.

Leave in Cairo.

The accommodation was good and shared a room with his old mate Gordon. There were certainly no faults with it and one of the best leaves was taken in Cairo. It was a six day leave; the Merry England Hotel provided that plenty of Stella Beer cold enough to frost the outside of the glass and cool enough to cool the sweating brow the only fault with the brew it filled the head with demon鈥檚 with heavy hammers trying to crack their way out of the scull in the morning. A cup of tea and a nice breakfast the headache forgotten and ready for a return visit to the bar for those extra vitals to carry him through the visits to Cairo.

Army Brothel.

Visiting the sites was a must for the lad. Amongst these was a visit to the Army Brothel in Sister Street. Leave was one of those periods that things talked about in camp were the priorities to be satisfied within the limits of the cash and time. A number of the lads had found what they wanted and repeated their visits to the brothel for the whole leave.
It was a place that didn鈥檛 do anything for this lad, youthful ideas and the stories of others built up the expectations of the place. There was no trouble in finding the horrible place even though it looked as if it was being hid in a back street. Entering the building was easy enough, once inside the first things to notice the height of the hall way and a high flight of stairs. At the bottom of the stairs the first people sighted sitting behind a desk were two Red Caps. It was compulsory to give them rank and army number details, formalities over and they handed over a disc to be used if intercourse took place. The whole object was to control VD. Witnessing the results of that one night stand in Cape Town to that soldier mentioned earlier was more than enough to heed the warnings.
He was no different to the others in his eagerness to dash up those stairs. Within a short time it was a feeling of incompetence and frustration at the whole atmosphere that was heavy in stinking sex. Miniature rooms were set aside for the client to perform and prostitute to go through the grunting and groaning. Queues lined up behind the popular prostitute room taking some refreshments while they waited. There was no doubt that these places were needed to help control VD but it seemed so wrong that a woman could detach herself from her body and let it be abused, the important build up to sex non- essential, it was a miserable experience.
The lad never regretted the visit; it was one of those things. Exciting stories told around the mess table were now seen in a different light. Cairo and Stella Beer were a thousand times more interesting
Money and time now exhausted, this leave was over and it was time to get back to the old routine, or so he thought.

Battle Patrol

Notices were posted asking for volunteers for the newly formed battle patrol. Its timing was right and was allowed to apply. What was important to him it looked more of an individual effort, and felt that it was the thing for him? Some time later a further interview and his application was accepted.
It was a good move; there was even a change in the way he was disciplined and with it the new types of survival equipment. Buttons that could be placed on top of each other could form a compass, soft-shoes, roadmaps and other things that went with the extra training.
Little did he know at the time that God had worked in mysterious ways for him; it had most certainly saved his life. Later in Italy his section was to suffer a lot of casualties; the officer was one of the good ones died in the same action. That little bit nonsense about the water bottle didn鈥檛 alter the view that he was the one officer that could be trusted and led by example, never asking what he wouldn鈥檛 do himself.
The picture of the Battle Patrol shows, third from the top left his old mate Gordon, third Charlie G fifth Best, bottom row 2nd figure Davies, 4th figure Carter, Bunny Austin is the sergeant in the fore ground. (Sadly time has taken the names of the others.)

Most of the time in Egypt was spent training in a special training area to bring actual war conditions into the training. There were a lot of advantages to the inexperienced lad. Stripping and firing this captured weaponry had that bit of excitement. Most important aspect about it was to experience the sound of live ammunition, and recognise the different characteristic sounds of enemy weaponry.
Night exercises were the most active with their tracer ammunition and flares; the guns were fired on fixed lines some times things went wrong, but in the main the flying missiles seemed closer than they were and needed little persuading to hug the ground. Keep head and the bottom down and everything would be alright. To ginger things up the shouting staff NCO's added to the fun with big bangers. Some of the training staff got over zealous and directed their aim at groups of men they thought were not as close as they should be to the ground. Maybe way above their heads but without a doubt it was effective. Anyway it gave a bit of atmosphere to the exercise.

Sand dunes were hard things to contend with. Surfaces were so fluid it could disable trucks by burying them up to their axles. Even the special tyres spun freely, digging ever deeper into the loose sand. it was then the job of everyone to disembark and push, or help in the digging out of the wheels. Essential metal runners strapped to the side of the truck were used if other things failed.
It never felt safe under the covered front and sides of the truck when motoring down a sand dune. Nothing was stable about that ride as the truck slid from one side to another at its worse moments it felt as if it wanted to topple over. What was even more fearsome was the possibility of being trapped in a burning truck.
Sandstorms were the very bad natural things to experience. With a little experience signs heralded their arrival and could be seen forming in the distance. Then it was lots of activity covering the essentials. Nothing could stop it and was a matter of hoping that the storm changed direction. They were strong enough to choose their own way into and over any-thing it chose. Even the teeth grated on that flying sand. This was a country full of ancient human artefact but not the best of places for a private soldier. The flies, heat at day and the cold at night did nothing to want him to stay as soldier in Egypt, but as a tourist in peace time would want to visit and appreciate its history. Stories of Bible period now had some meaning; the word could now be married up to the actual conditions. All leave periods were a brilliant experience of the good and the bad. Cairo was exciting but spoilt by being pestered by the local hawkers but all in all there was something about the place that was exciting, where in the hell could he go in the future that had so much ancient history in existence.

MV Winchester Castle.

Training over and once again aboard a ship, there was no mistaking her lines as a liner. The role had changed and was now a part of the European invasion force, at that time, where was still not known. Nature played one of its tricks; bad weather stopped the first exercise landing. Loads of prepared food for the landing was thrown overboard and normal eating took place. Other that being hyped up for going ashore fully dressed for these war games nothing else happened. Within a short time the return trip to Egypt. Think it was for the landing administration to gain experience in landing troops. The first trial run had failed and the troops didn鈥檛 get ashore. In the end they must have got what they wanted from it and little later set off down the Mediterranean. Cruising along gave plenty of time to study the ships in the convoy, they stretched for miles;

Preparing for the invasion of Sicily.

At least there was some comfort from the weather that now was a tourist dream. A short distance into the trip pamphlets setting out English pronunciations of Italian words and sentences were issued now at least it was no longer a mystery trip. The Welsh roll from there on in was filled with further briefings to the actual invasion of Sicily.
Most of the lad鈥檚 moods had changed the more thoughtful troops wrote letters and looking at well worn photographs. This was the time to be single with the one person to worry about, within a short time they all would know what to expect. Cleaning the firearms was now a priority with a lot of other activities. The vital First Aid dressing was checked and returned to the small pocket in front of the trousers. In the side pack the all-important sealed tin with its chocolate and vitamin contents, one of the many musts, officially its sole purpose was to be used as an emergency ration. Out of curiosity for their contents it was lost and opened. Surprisingly it tasted pretty good and had no trouble in eating it.
Every thing that had to be carried was checked then re checked. Weaponry inspections repeated then repeated again. Nobody he knew had taken part in an amphibious landing, thank God what lay ahead could not be anticipated.

July 10th 1943.

Relief for some was to talk until they bored every one around them, others smoking one cigarette after another, funny how smoking was considered the panacea to a worried mind the normal thing to grab in the bad periods. Cigarette field rations were free and cheap enough to buy, perhaps that was the reason. Majority though thoughtful of the invasion outcome didn鈥檛 really worry about it; he with the rest was young enough to last forever, if only it had been true. When it became time to leave the troop ship and board the LST landing craft, every thing was O鈥橩, skies were clear of enemy aircraft; no banging coming from the shore the earlier landings that had secured the beach-head. The weather and sea condition was perfect for the landing, with no rolling ship to contend with, disembarking into the small landing craft easily accomplished.

There was no problems with the landing, didn鈥檛 even get the feet wet. A few Italian soldiers' bodies were laying about the shoreline, but there seemed to be no other damage to the buildings. With the sea behind him and looking to the right he could see a lighthouse sitting on the end of a pier. Around and about were houses of what must have been a fishing village.
Troops and machinery moved about on the shore, landing craft moving in all directions discharging more troops. . Other larger landing craft close to shore with their ramps down unloading their heavy cargoes just off shore a HMS Destroyer moving at some speed, letting off a few salvoes, the whole thing looked very impressive echoing pride and power. Near to the shore a Hospital Ship clearly marked ready to do her job later to be told that she had been sunk.

There were not many people about as his troop moved about the houses. This village must have been a military place.
Amongst all this activity the Italian prisoners stood in-groups. Nobody seemed interested in them, odd Tommy soldiers looking in their direction but took no part in their incarceration. Barbed wire and posts were provided and the prisoners got on with the building of their prison compound. Orders were given to get cracking with the shovel, don鈥檛 think there was much enthusiasm, and he with the others were digging in with little enthusiasm. This group of green horns were soon to be taught a lesson.

Digging,

It was a scene that was fluid that flowed in all directions; the expected action hadn鈥檛 happened and was a little mundane. Their digging activity was only a small part of the scenery but it wasn鈥檛 to last for long. Things had been so easy that there seemed to be no urgency to take part in any of the war time games. Weather was perfect; the only disappointment the fags had been looted from the K rations. Each box had an identification number to specify its particular contents; nothing could be easier for the thief to locate and remove the cigarettes, it was a handy picking for the bastards.
The black market flourished on Cigarettes, blankets and other goodies was considered better than currency. Front line troops in the main considered cigarettes a must and relied a lot on this ration for relaxation. Victory V鈥橲 was the one cigarette that should have cured every one of smoking and was vile to smoke; some had the popular name on the packet, but boy were they rough! Some had a little bug in them that burrowed there way out perforating the paper tube of the cigarette it looked similar to the hole made by a woodworm and made it almost impossible to use.

Military build up was reaching its peak the Beach Master had set up his control centre. There was little interest in the activity going on around the place at that time, but a little later on in the day that was to change when Gerry paid us a visit, survival then became a priority. That simple shovel tool was now the most prized part of the equipment not only for him but all the others. From some where the body energy removes any tiredness and indifference, fear the great motivator has changed every thing, the trench was never deep enough, a little lull in the raid and that shovel moved ever faster than ever before.

It was still in its early times and the beachhead was pretty compact. Each time the enemy aircraft attacked it felt is if the plane was a personal visitor from hell. Shouting and bawling from all directions took over from the noise of the German aircraft. From this chaos the voice of the Beach Master over the Tannor system was cool and positive, and took some of the sharp edges off the raid. His voice never seemed to change as he directed the anti-aircraft fire and must have had nerves of steel; his coolness must have helped everyone. Screaming aircraft and the banging of the gunfire never seemed to drown out his voice.

It was the first lesson learned that the trench was important to be improved it in any lull to get any extra cover possible. Digging in was implanted in his mind. Surrounding ground took on a new importance. Sloppy attitudes of the first hours were gone forever. Raid over; he was more alive than he had ever been and studied every part of the body to see if it was whole. A little time before he had crawled into the trench and had screamed to the Gods and his Mother for help. Now all was quiet with the rest around smiling and waving their arms in Relief! The Gods are now left in peace and the Mother figure stored for another day.

Ordered were given to move out, the beachhead had been established and was to advance further in land. As they moved the scenery became even more beautiful than before. Any flat area tucked away there in the hills found its way to villages and farms. There was always an exciting moment with every turn of the lorry鈥檚 wheel as it travelled the ever-winding roads. Large lengths of the road were cut into the hillside; one side with the landscape running up-wards forever, on the other it fell away into the valley below. Lorry wheels often ran within inches of the edge of these hillside roads, there was always a feeling of being trapped in the vehicle should it take the big dive to the valley below. It was then a matter of closing the eyes until on safer ground as things eased off it was the usual singing, 鈥楤less Them All鈥� etc.

The good thing about the journey was that the weather conditions were good and the roads were dry and firm. The odd tank and farmhouse burnt out added that particular odour to the air. Eventually the Welch reached the Catania Plains. They were just the visitors; all the bloody fighting had been done. Good British and American men had died to get this far, names of places meant nothing. Palermo came into view, little knowing that the LC landing craft that were assembled were to take him to mainland Italy.
The Island of Sicily was now under new ownership, military anyway, and we with thousands of others boarded the ships and were off to the Italian mainland.

September 1.

It was a short trip across the Messina Strait to the mainland Italy. The Royal Navy was softening up the area with their Monitor Shallow Draft warships. Present day history of this action seems to say that Gerry had moved out sometime before the bombardment. Whatever the facts were it was a good moral booster as our shells always sounded nicer on the way to them, rather than theirs dancing amongst us? No problem in landing and were able to work our way up the coast.
NOTE. The exact sequence of events I do not remember. There was no fighting taking place as they passed the Foggia airfield. Damaged buildings with its wrecked planes scattered about the place. There was no sign of other ground troops, and must have been blitzed by allied aircraft. Only noises were from the truck as it moved over the surface of the road. Each man sitting cramped in the truck鈥檚 interior deep in there own thoughts. This went on for some time only stopping for the natural needs. Somewhere along the line they left the trucks and re-embarked onto the LCI鈥檚. (Landing Craft Infantry.)

The trip to the port of Taranto was un-eventful; luck was still holding out, things were all right in that it was peaceful. Somewhere along the journey a part of the Battalion was transferred to a LCI landing craft. What was thought to the better transport was changed by the closed atmosphere below deck with little to do but sit and watch one another? Those still suffering from seasickness paper cartons with screwed lids were made available, at the first opportunity they were collected and thrown overboard.
At various times permission was given to have a spell on deck to enjoy fresh air and sunshine. The trip over it was uneventful but at lest back to solid ground. Within a short time the order to pack and get ready to move was given little knowing that it was a trip back to Egypt.

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