大象传媒

Part 1 - THE START OF THE BEGINNING

I find it hard to believe that 63 years have passed since these events took place, so an old man of 83 might be excused some inaccuracy, but I shall endeavour to be precise, and avoid wandering off the story-line too much.

We join the "Hudsons" on Sunday morning, September 3rd 1939. Parents Lizzie and Jack (both mid 50s), twins Gladys and Eileen (14) and myself John (20). The two eldest girls are absent. Hilda (25) evacuated with expectant "Mums" to Clevedon, Somerset, and Rose (27) two miles away with her friend Eddie.

All present that Sunday morning are looking very glum. The voice of Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain cames from the radio: "...we have received no reply from Herr Hitler to our ultimatum, that he withdraws his forces from attacking Poland, and so, with effect from 11.00a.m. we are at war with Germany."

The silence was broken by Dad: "come on Son, let's get on with putting that bloody shelter together!" How would a man with a wife and five children feel in similar circumstances? He had lived through 1914-18! During August thousands of Anderson Shelters were distributed, (named after John Anderson, the Home Secretary at the time.) They were corrugated and intended to protect against flying shrapnel only, a bag of nuts and bolts were included with instructions on assembly, the rest was up to us. No problem(??) We continued digging until evening, and then adjourned to hear the 9.00p.m. 大象传媒 News.

A voice announced: "His Majesty, The King, has made a Proclamation from Buckingham Palace, all men between 20 and 23 will register for service with the Armed Forces on September 21st. Men will receive at least 4 months training before being sent overseas." I retired to my bed feeling anything but cheerful that night. I slept alone facing the street at the front, but awakened suddenly at midnight by the wailing of the air-raid siren, and a tin-hatted Warden blasting his whistle in the street outside. "What's happening?" I shouted through the open window. "They are on their way" came the reply, "put that light out!" Mum's voice came from within: "Come on John - we're going down to the shelter." All was turmoil at first, but order and quietness soon took over. The "ALL CLEAR" hooter came - our first taste. It was a mock alarm to keep the public alert and ready for emergency, so I returned to my bed. It transpired that whilst I slept that Sunday night, a German submarine penetrated the defences of Scapa Flow. A torpedo struck our large battleship 'The Royal Oak'. The ammunition exploded and 1,800 young men were drowned. Five escaped. THE WAR HAD BEGUN.

Part 2 - THE "PHONEY" WAR

The British called the period between 3rd September '39 to May '40 The "Phoney" War. Both sides sat behind their defences, just watching and waiting. Perhaps some old soldiers from 1914 expected them to "go over the top" when the whistle blew, but the French were deep down in the "Maginot Line" fortifications, and the Germans safe in their "Siegfried Line". We were not told that powerful "Tiger" tanks were being assembled to form Panzer Divisions, capabe of brushing aside British and French armour like sardine-tins.

The Germans were preparing for "Blitzkrieg" or Lightning War. Their plan was to strike the other side so hard after going around his concrete bunkers, that he had to retreat to Dunkirk and await paddle-steamers back to Ramsgate. This would mean going through Holland and Belgium - a repeat of 1914. It must be said that our forces were very courageous, but overwhelmed by an enemy long prepared in tanks and aircraft. They had perfected "dive-bombing" by helping General Franco in the Spanish Civil War (1936), an designed tanks to withstand direct-hits.

I must return to my story of the "London Family". The day of registration for the 20-23s arrived (21st September.) An old "codger" at my work-place gave some "tips" for the coming interview: "Ask him to send you to where the fighting is most fierce," he said in confidence, "he'll write on your reference papers: 'Mentally Unstable - Unfit for Service' - you'll be home for the duration." It was kind of him, but I decided to assure the interviewing officer that I was keen on the "Catering Corps" or maybe the "Mail Section" of the Royal Engineers. On April 2nd, I was instructed to report to Shrapnel Barracks, Woolwich, for training in the 56th Heavy Regiment, Royal Artillery.

They used 6" guns (100lb shells); unfortunately in May our big guns were left behind in the rush for France, but some with big iron wheels had been put in storage after the "cease fire" (1918).

Back to London once more - or should I say Barking, Essex. Hilda returned to Craven Gardens, where Alan was born, January 1st 1940. He was my parents first grandchild, and we all paid a visit as soon as possible to see the little fellow. They little knew that many weeks of refuge in the Anderson Shelter lay ahead!

My next episode could be called "Joining the Regiment". Mum fully expected me home for tea when I departed for Woolwich on 2nd April, 1940. Sadly, the Army had other plans.

Part 3 - JOINING THE REGIMENT

I reported to Shrapnel Barracks, Woolwich on April 2nd, 1940 as instructed. This was still in the "Phoney War" period, about six weeks before the Germans launched their attack through Belgium and France. The emergency had not begun, the British seemed to think: "Don't panic, we'll lick them once we get organised." Hundreds of men assembled in a holiday atmosphere - more like a big match-day at Tottenham against Arsenal. Two hundred men from the Post Office joined the multitude. Some were heard to say: "How is it that many of these people know each other?" The riddle was soon solved. "They've sent for a batch of sorters and postmen, God help the artillery when this lot start chucking the shells over - they can't even get the mail delivered right!"

"Pay attention!" roared the sergeant. "I'm going to divide you into two lots, one side to the 56th Heavy Regiment, the other side to the 74th Mediums, so shut up and listen for your names." Adams, Burnside, Bentine... down the list came "Hudson" and I took up my position with the 56th crowd.

The roll-call ended. "A meal is prepared" our sergeant shouted, "you will then leave and board the train for the south-coast. Men for the 56th will be in the front half, and leave the train at Hastings, the remainder will proceed and leave at Brighton for the 74th Medium Regiment. Fall out now for dinner."

It was dark when we climbed aboard army lorries at Hastings station, and rumbled through unlit streets to Holt Regis, near Blacklands Church, a mile away. Holt Regis was a large guest-house or hotel taken over by the army for the duration. It had a long drive, and we blinked at our surroundings through the darkness.

Our new guide was sergeant Tucker, a 6'3" reservist from Southend police force. "You are now 'A' Battery, 56th Heavy Regiment, Royal Artillery. This will be your home for the time being. Eight of you will be sleeping on the first floor, each man has a palliasse or straw-mattress, and four blankets. You should be comfortable on the floor. Lavatories and wash-bowls are in the corridor, so don't "pee" from the window - you are not at home now! Reveille is at 6.00, breakfast at 7.00, and at 8.00 you will parade for the Quartermaster stores to be "kitted out." Any questions? Perhaps tomorrow you might look something like soldiers, instead of a "rag-bag" shower. No smoking. No Lights. Good-night."

So ended my first day as a soldier - I was too tired to cry!

Part 4 - BACKS TO THE WALL

The first day at Holt Regis was spent collecting our "Battle Dress" and other bits to make up the full Army kit. In the afternoon we were taken out to drill and test the heavy boots for comfort. They also wanted details of our civilian employment in preparation for our future training. Men are moved around at any time. Some are trained to fire the guns, others to operate communications (wireless, etc.) These are known as the signalling group to which I was attached. Most of our NCOs were police reservists who came from all parts of England and Wales.

Our training was suddenly interrupted in May. The Germans started to move towards the Channel Ports and confusion took over - we were untrained and most of the light weapons had been lost in the stampede from Dunkirk.

From our gun-positions near Folkestone fires could be seen across the Channel, and small craft were unloading exhausted troops snatched from the beaches twenty miles away.
I think a 'state of confusion' is the best way to describe the conditions that existed, not knowing what the Germans would do next. The War Office decided that paratroops were a possibility - six-foot poles were erected in the fields to wreck any gliders that might bring infantry. New recruits were sent to block roads from the coast. Men like those in "Dads Army" appeared on bicycles, - armed with guns for duck-shooting - and wearing armbands marked L.D.V.(Local Defence Volunteers.) They were later called the "Home Guard".

Slowly, British 'calm' was restored(?) Hitler and his Generals considered that we might give up.
The French produced a new leader, Marshal Petain, an old soldier who had served in the slaughter of World War I. He considered the situation hopeless, and didn't want further bloodshed. Petain asked for peace and Hitler expected the same from Britain. Winston Churchill had a few stiff brandies and broadcast from his bunker the famous: "Fight on the Beaches" speech.

Air Chief Marshal Goering and his commanders made their plans. The Royal Air Force must be destroyed first. He reckoned without our brave lads in their Spitfires and Hurricanes. The rest is history.

My 21st birthday fell on 5th July '40 - invasion was expected. A wrist-watch arrived from Mum and Dad, and a copy of the Holy Bible from a friend - at least someone was praying for me!

An awful summer turned into an awful autumn and winter. Our poor mums and dads (and families) made themselves comfortable(?) in their Anderson Shelters in readiness for the night-bombers.

PART 5

Despite civilian suffering, the Luftwaffe losses were heavy from our night-fighters and anti-aircraft guns. The raids got fewer, but changed to flying-bombs from launch-sites in Holland.

Summer arrived, and in July 1941 the Germans turned to attack Russia. This took pressure off Britain. We began to train and build up for 'D' Day 1944. A 'trial' run was made by the Canadians on Dieppe 1942. It failed after heavy losses. The lesson was to build up with massive strength with the Americans in 1944.

What of the 56th Heavy Regiment? We were given new weapons (7.2" Howitzers), extra men from Scottish units, and started to prepare for the sands of Algeria and Tunisia. Italy and France came later......to think my mum was still waiting for me to get back to tea from Woolwich!!

A cold January 1943, SS "Otranto" (40,000 tons) slipped out of Liverpool Docks loaded with 6,000 troops, reinforcements for our North African armies. The captain headed for mid-Atlantic - with an escort of destroyers - hoping to avoid German U-boats. SS "Otranto" began to sway in the heavy seas after six hours - I had only been on the Woolwich Free-ferry before, and didn't eat much that morning!!! My bunk was deep down in the ship.

I must pause to refresh my memory! Algiers was six days away - General Montgomery was busy in far-away Libya and El Alamein; I was stuck deep-down in a loaded troop-ship, dozens of sea-sick soldiers all around. I can remember one man going for a bucket of tea and tray of kippers at 6.00a.m. I can't remember eating any!...... I feel ill at the thought!

Part 6 - THE MERCILESS ATLANTIC

Liverpool Docks were important targets for German bombers in January 1943, food and other vital supplies arrived there, so our train unloaded rapidly, and we were soon boarding the "Otranto". Men cursed as they stumbled in the darkness on the unfamiliar gangplank. I was directed down two flights to a lower deck, and selected a hammock from those hanging.

I hardly had time to shake my heavy boots off before the engines started, and we were heading out of Liverpool Bay and moving north to the Irish Sea. Life-jackets were adjusted over our great-coats and in full-dress we climbed into the hammock to rest, listening to the engines as they drove the propeller below, time to think of home far away. What would my mum say if she knew I was swinging in a sack on a boat out in the Atlantic? Dad would say: "Bloody fool! I always knew that he would come to a bad end."

By dawn we were travelling fast well out in the Atlantic. A Destroyer escort had joined us during the night - I watched her, like a terrier guarding its master as we sped on. The fresh Atlantic air was welcome after being below so many hours. My tongue started to move again, it had dried up in the air below. The ship began to bury its bow into the sea, and the coming up movement played havoc with our stomachs. We were soon hanging over the rail and many were stretched out below decks, all feeling sorry that we had been persuaded to eat the fried kippers and tea offered by the cooks.

It took four days for most of us to recover, after that we were content to watch the sea rush by, and rest. We were not told as to our destination. One man's comment was: "I don't care a toss - North Africa to help 'Monty' probably." Six days passed, the sea grew less angry and the air warmer. We knew that we were nearing Africa - the sun even appeared.

Resting on our hammocks one dark night - the sea was calm, hardly a movement of the ship - someone shouted: "Wake up lads, we are passing Gibraltar!" Sure enough on the port side, we could see the dark outline of the famous "Rock." Being British, Gibraltar had a complete black-out. On the starboard side were the twinkling lights of Ceuta in Spanish territory. Spain was at peace, maybe the Civil War battles of 1936 had been too destructive. The "Otranto" engines sprang into life as if to say: "Thank God we are in the Mediterranean, away from that merciless Atlantic." - But what awaits us ahead? It couldn't be worse. Or could it?

We passed Gibraltar at night and "glided" into the Mediterranean Sea. The following day was like a holiday cruise, warm sunshine and a calm sea, so we just relaxed on deck and enjoyed it. The next morning someone shouted: "We've docked in Algiers!" It was my first sight of a foreign land. We looked down on Arab boys in small boats shouting as we lined the rail: "Hey, Tommy! You have chocolate, chewing gum, we dive for francs?" The U.S. Forces had obviously been before.

Our officers gave us the good news first. The sea trip was over, but the docks at Algiers were unhealthy at night. The German planes often called, and a large vessel with troops made a good target! We had a seven-mile march out of town to CAP MATIFOU. Out feet were a bit tender after so long in soft shoes on the ship. We were marching F.S.M.O.(or Field Service Marching Order) which was a large pack containing spare boots and blanket, small pack, webbing, rifle and ammunition. We reached CAP MATIFOU and moved into position with the British First Army in February '43. Our guns were 7.2 Howitzers, which fired 120lb shells of high explosive - "assisted" by 25lb of explosive charges - noisy monsters!

( YOU CAN FIND A SEPARATE ACCOUNT OF THE FIRST CASUALTIES IN NORTH AFRICA ON REF: A4148633 )

From Tunisia we travelled to SALERNO, south of Naples, in September '43, and fired at regular intervals for about 18 months. Activity slowed down during the snow in the mountains. We had to rip down dead-wood poles supporting the vines to burn as fuel to keep warm. Farmers were angry!!

Spring arrived, we left with the Canadian forces from LIVORNO to Marseilles, travelled up the Rhone Valley into Holland. The Germans surrendered in May '45, and we became "Army of Occupation."

I returned to my little Post Office job in August '46 - the folks there said we'd had a nice long 'holiday,' while they were being bombed to Hell by German "bds."

My Mum and Dad, Gladys and Eileen, put the flags out: "WELCOME HOME JOHN!" when I came marching back to 5, Hartshorn Gardens, in my new "demob" suit. I was blessed with a loving family, and a LITTLE bit of luck.

WRITTEN BY JOHN HUDSON, NOVEMBER 2002 (Aged 83)

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