大象传媒

By this time I could hear shrapnel hitting the carrier, so I got out quickly and crawled beneath it. I considered that there would be less of me to hit, and more of the carrier, which was harder than I was. The firing continued all that morning, and we could hear ours banging away, I didn鈥檛 know where they were, but I guessed that they were close, how close I was soon to find out. One of my crew came running to the carrier, threw himself down, and crawled to my side. 鈥淪arge wants you now,鈥� he said, 鈥渘ow!鈥� I ran to where he was waiting for me, in one of the outhouses like an oversized coal house. He told me he had a small piece of shrapnel hit him under his arm, and he was going to get it dressed at the R.A.P. so I was to go and take over a slit trench at the bottom of the farmyard in a field. I was to stay there until he returned, then he would come down to me. I left him then and collected my rifle and equipment, and this time my gas mask too, ran as quick as I could, and tumbled into the slit trench. I noticed as I ran that the village was in flames, as was the end of the farmhouse. I had also found our guns, they were in position in front of a wood, just under the cover of the trees, so I was in the unenviable position of being under our shells going out, and Jerries shells coming in. In the slit trench I could see the towers of the church still standing, and for all I knew the observer was still using it as an observation post. They were using a mixture of high explosive and shrapnel, they seemed to be putting the explosive in the woods, and the shrapnel just in front, so every time I heard a sharp crack I ducked down quick. But one time I was not quick enough, I heard the crack and ducked down, my steel helmet went sailing over the back of the trench. I looked round in time to see a wisp of smoke coming from a hole about two inches in diameter which I thought was an unexploded shell. I was out of that trench and running before I knew what I was doing. When I finally threw myself down and collected my wits, I was lying in the field in front of the guns, I knew I could not stay there for long. I kept looking at the slit trench waiting for that shell to go off, nothing happened, so I scuttled back into it, lay in the bottom as small as I could make myself, lit a cigarette and waited.
It must have been a lump of shrapnel, for nothing happened for the next two or three hours. In fact I thought the Sergeant had forgotten me, which he had, or rather he had no more interest in me, he was dead. I didn鈥檛 know then of course, it was not until some time later that one of my crew came to tell me that we had to get ready to move, that Wicko the Sergeant was dead, and he was leaving me to make up another crew, which left me with just the Bren gunner. He wanted me to help him move Wicko鈥檚 body, the other crews did not like the idea of touching him, and he had to be moved to let the carriers out of the yard.
He was lying on his back with his arm upraised as if he had been showing where the shrapnel had entered his arm pit. A shell had exploded in the passage and the resulting shrapnel had wounded the other bloke and killed Wicko. I could not believe he was dead until I lifted his head, there was a small hole in his forehead, but the back of his head was a mess. We lifted him up and put him in the small outhouse, intending to bury him later, but we never got the chance, twenty minutes later we had gone.
In 1964 I went back to Dunkirk and visited the cemetery there, his name was on the marble slab of the dead with no known grave, so Jerry must have plastered it after we left.
I think it is time that I explained the sort of set up we were in. our division was the 48th Division, and we were in the 143rd Brigade. In January, the territorials came to France, so they salted the territorials with Regular Army, and we were moved from the 4th Division to the 48th. At Tournai, the Brigade we were in; the 143rd, were disengaged and sent to another section of the front that was a bit thin on the ground and were being pushed back. Added to that, the British Expeditionary Force Commander had been informed that he should send all the non fighting personnel back to Dunkirk for evacuation, and his primary concern was to keep the route to Dunkirk open, hence our rapid withdrawal and our enforced rest.
We started out in the evening and continued all that night. When dawn came, we, that is two carriers, found ourselves on a hill overlooking Ypres. In front of us was a long straight road, on either side of the road were tall poplars, and as I looked at it, I thought that I had seen that road somewhere, then it struck me, I had seen it in photographs. It was the road to Ypres, the same road that my Father had trod to his subsequent death, only instead of going up to Ypres, we were coming down away from it. As we watched a column of French artillery came down the road, horses pulling the guns and limbers, French gunners either side of a troop kitchen in the middle of the column, and smoke from the kitchen blowing in the wind. 1914 all over again. It was then that the picture disintegrated, the troops scattered to the ditches on each side of the road, the poor horses began to stop as five or six German bombers came along the road, dropping their bombs as they came towards us. A picture of smoke and fire spread out below us as the bombers zoomed away, then the whinnying of the wounded horses. One lone Spitfire came speeding after the bombers, as he closed he zoomed over them, dived under them and came up shooting, his target angled over and crashed in flames just outside Ypres. He got another before we heard the 鈥渂oom鈥� of the explosion as the first one hit the ground. By this time the others had scattered and they disappeared with the 鈥楽pit鈥� gaining on them, then he was back again, speeding along the road and waggling his wings as he went over us. He probably saw five scruffy soldiers jumping up and down and waving like madmen. As for the French, they had stopped shooting the wounded horses and, like us, were dancing and waving and cheering, it was a lovely feeling.
On our way from Tournai to Ypres, we went through Lille, it had been well and truly bombed. I had helped to get one of the carriers mobile again, and starting off we found ourselves on a road that was swarming with refugees. We could tell by the way they looked and shouted at us that we were not very welcome on their bit of road, so as soon as we could, we pulled off the road and went cross country to a farm. It was at the junction of a crossroads, the yard was surrounded by a high wall with a gate. We went into the yard expecting to find some eggs, two of the lads went searching for eggs, while we mounted the Bren on the A.A. mountings. Having done that we went to the gate to watch the refugees still walking past on the road. Suddenly there was a lot of screaming and the road cleared like magic as they hid in the ditches each side of the road. Down the road came a fighter firing like mad, we ran to the guns and aimed at him but we were too late, he had passed, but the next one that was following him was in a good position for us. He must have flew into a magazine full for he forgot about the people on the road and zoomed straight up out of the way, we stopped firing and watched him, he turned in the sky and down he came, he was coming for us, we stood in the gateway and gave him the Victory sign. We watched as his bullets struck the opposite wall of the yard, then the spurts of dust as they raced across the yard, when they hit the middle of the yard we dodged behind the wall, as he zoomed over us we stood up and gave him the elbow, which in German probably means 鈥榰p yours!鈥� I should think it must have done for he came back, firing as he levelled out, again we waited, and again we dodged behind the walls. When he came back again, he dived almost straight down, it would have been a bit dodgy, but fortunately his 鈥榓mmo鈥� ran out, and he flew off out of sight, but not before he had seen us giving him the elbow again.
Up until now we had a very hazy idea of where we were, but from here, we hadn鈥檛 got a clue, things stick, but when or where they occurred I cannot recall. One morning I remember Jeff collared me for a 鈥榬ekee鈥�, another carrier followed us and I was told to put my foot down, which I did. We were making for a village, which, as we got closer seemed to be on fire, shells were exploding all over the village and us. As we got nearer, we reached the main village street, Jeff stopped me, jumped out and shouted to me to follow him. We went into one of the houses, the roof was on fire, inside a Sergeant was sitting at a table, a field telephone at his side. Jeff asked him where his C.O. was, and he told him he had gone to visit one of the companies. He then went on to say that he had gone in his P.U. we went out into the street, and there at the bottom of the street, was the P.U. in flames. A shell must have hit it 鈥渟mack on鈥� I said, there was no chance of seeing the C.O. now, but Jeff said that he must find the company. 鈥淭ake the carriers into the woods we passed and wait for me鈥�. I had no desire to stay in the village, it looked unhealthy, so I jumped into my carrier, the engine still running, told the others to follow me, and put my foot hard down. I had noticed a road as we came down, so I turned into it as soon as we came to it, then we waited and waited for what seemed like hours. By now shells had begun to drop in the wood and we were all getting restless, we were all wondering if Jerry had taken the village and if Jeff was still alive, and they were looking at me expecting me to do something. I said I would walk to the edge of the wood to see if I could see him about, I got to the edge of the wood, nothing, so I moved farther out. The village was getting a real belting now, and overshoots were landing in the wood. Suddenly I heard cracks over my head, BULLETS, I got down quick, looked through the grass to my left, and there was a machine gun firing in my direction, I did not know what to do. I wondered if he was firing at me or if he was firing at fixed lines at the Germans in the village, either way I was in a good position to stop one. I waited for them to stop firing, watching through the grass, the gun was about four hundred yards away, so I watched for him to change belts. As soon as I saw the number two lift the next belt I was up and running, the machine gun was firing again, but I was safely in the wood by then.
As soon as Jeff got in the carrier we were off, we left the wood, and he stood up to look at his map. I told him that machine guns were firing towards us and he might stop one. 鈥淭hey are the Gloucesters, and they have been giving covering fire for the Warwicks to withdraw.鈥� I thought that they had not been told that we were between them and the Germans, it seemed I had been lucky, and I saw that they too had withdrawn, and we were on our own again, going to God knows where. A bit later Jeff stopped me, looked at his map, and looked around to get his bearings, then he directed me onto a cart track that led into a wood. About half a mile up this track we came to a crossroads, nearer tracks than roads, woods on either side, except for a cottage set on one corner. We stopped there and Jeff told me to leave the engine running and follow him. We entered the wood opposite the cottage and there he stopped. He said I was to go back to the carriers, drive them onto the track that ran on the side of the wood we were in, and wait for him. He said he was going to find out if the Germans were on the other side of the wood, he said he would fire his pistol if he was in trouble and make for the track that we would be on. We were to drive down the track firing the Bren high so the Germans would keep their distance, if he was alright we were to drive down and pick him up. With that he drew his revolver and walked into the wood.
I went back and told the blokes what he had said, then we moved the carriers on to the track. The track we could see had been the scene of a real battle, for bodies of both British and German troops were stretched over it. The German equipment looked brand new, and as we pulled them off the track we saw the double lightening flash on their tunics, S.S troops. Our lads were the Warwicks, one that I moved I went to school with, when I took his hands to move him, they were still warm, so I think they had been killed about two hours before we arrived. I laid him out properly before I left him, that really spoilt my day, and I was glad when we saw Jeff waving for us to pick him up.
When we got back to our old positions, we found that the regiment had pulled out, and left a 鈥楧.R.鈥� to let us know where they had gone. In pulling out they had let the Germans advance, and we could see them trotting over the fields towards us, they saw us too, for they dropped in the grass and fired at us. I swung the carrier round and Jeff let loose with the Bren, then it was down to the floor with the throttle and up through the 鈥榖ox鈥� until we were doing about forty-five miles an hour. Me first, then the D.R. then the other carrier, and we kept that way until we caught up with the regiment.
We stayed with the regiment as it marched all night, stop and start, stop and start, until dawn came. My mate was driving and letting me sleep in a fashion, for we had about twenty passengers draped over the carrier. They were all asleep as I opened my eyes and looked about me, we were just going through the defences that we had worked so hard on all the winter. We were back where we started.

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