大象传媒

Cpl John, Engineering Surveyor Railway Survey Co., Royal Engineers, Longmoor (Transportation Training Centre)

When the news broke I was in the post office in Callander (later to become Dr Finlay鈥檚 鈥淭annochbrae鈥�) in the beautiful Trossachs area in Scotland 鈥� I was on my honeymoon!
It happened like this. During my training in Longmoor, I, a Cockney, met and fell hopelessly in love with a very pretty, attractive Scottish ATS girl. It became obvious that this was not to be a temporary wartime romance, but was serious and would inevitably lead to marriage. And so just over a year later in May 1944 I approached my commanding officer about how to apply for marriage leave in September/October. His reply was terse. 鈥淒o it now.鈥�
I was granted 7 days 鈥榩assionate鈥� leave. A telegram was despatched to my wife-to-be, still at Longmoor.
At very short notice all was decided. To their very great credit my wife and her parents in Glasgow amazingly arranged a reception, sent out invitations, got new outfits, obtained a special licence, and on 3rd June a wedding in her own Church of Scotland 鈥� and a very brief honeymoon!
Did the marriage last? It has 鈥� so far. Diamond Wedding Celebrations this year!

On with the war

Bombs, mines and booby traps

Honeymoons can鈥檛 last forever 鈥� though wars seem to. When we arrived in France to fulfil our function of maintaining supply lines for what was proving to be a quite rapid advance, it became clear that the above trio of nasties would present us with a few problems.
One day I was in the middle of a large field holding a surveying staff, while my colleague was on the main road with a theodolite taking readings. A motorcycle dispatch rider rode up to him and they began to examine a map he had brought. My colleague turned towards me and in a very loud voice called,
鈥淵ou are in a minefield.鈥�
I knew the procedure recommended for such situations. With a small bayonet (which, fortunately, I had with me) you prod the ground just in front of you, if no metallic clonk, step on to that spot 鈥� and so on, prod, step, prod, step. What seemed to be hours later I arrived back safely on the road!
Had it been a real minefield, or just a dummy field? We were to discover that this was to be a common problem, even those surrounded by barbed wire and labelled 鈥淎chtung, Minen鈥� often proved to be dummies.
Being a small unit and working on the railway, it was often convenient to be billeted in railway stations. We were warned, however, to be very wary of booby traps left in such places. So we learnt a number of basic safety measures; 鈥極pen doors with a pole from a safe distance鈥�, 鈥楧o not step on door mats鈥�, 鈥楧on鈥檛 flush the toilet鈥�. We followed this routine religiously 鈥� and never found a thing!
A different form of trap proved to be more dangerous. An officer and I were walking along a railway line when suddenly he stumbled over a trip wire. We both flung ourselves to the ground 鈥� and nothing happened. We traced the line to where it entered the ground just beside the track, there to activate the hand grenade buried there, to be discharged into the air and explode. But the line was badly rusted and so had failed to carry out its purpose.
This emphasises the great role played by LUCK in deciding whether one survives or not. There must be endless stories to be told saying just this.

Did I really do that?

Even now, so many years later, I still shudder at some of the awesome responsibilities I undertook 鈥� and what could have happened if things had gone wrong.
Quite early on, when supplies were so urgently needed, a temporary railway bridge had been put over a river.
It appears that the temporary piles supporting the bridge were gradually sinking into the river bed. We happened to be nearby and I was sent, with my level, to decide just when the bridge was no longer safe. The lines were just above the water when I was asked if the next supply train could go. I reluctantly gave the OK, but by the time the train arrived the lines were no longer visible. 鈥� The train ran on water, and safely reached the other side! As you can guess, I said 鈥渘o more鈥�.

As we were a small, and often mobile unit, one difficulty we met was the lack of safe drinking water. We were issued with a water tank, as a trailer behind one of our trucks. For some undisclosed reason I was appointed Corporal I.C. Water.
The tank was fitted with a long flexible hose, with a filter fitted on the end. This was plunged into a village pond, stream, river etc.鈥� switch on, and the water was sucked into the tank, the filter excluding any solid matter. Then came the tricky part. I had been issued with an instruction leaflet, and a number of test tubes containing a variety of coloured substances. A small quantity of one particular substance had to be put into the water first, and according to the reaction, others would be added. Then I could declare the water safe!! I can鈥檛 remember how long we kept the water tank, but I was mightily relieved that it went before we had an outbreak of typhus or diarrhoea.

Nijmegen

Of all the towns and cities I visited in my wartime wanderings, one holds a special place in my memory, and that is Nijmegen, a few miles south of Arnhem. At the time we arrived there, the town and the immediate surrounding area came to be known as the 鈥淣ijmegen salient鈥�, largely surrounded by Germans. Thus it was not a particularly healthy place to be at that time. One feature I remember was that there was a V1 launch site pretty close and the doodlebugs came roaring across at just above rooftop height. The Bofors guns in the railway yards would fire away at them 鈥� but I never did see them hit one. What would have been the outcome if they had done I can鈥檛 imagine.
None of this is what makes this place so special, but it was there that a friend and I met a local family, and began to have some idea of what it was like for ordinary families to live for so long under Nazi occupation. A local Army canteen had been set up, and on a noticeboard there were the names and addresses of local families who wanted to welcome us into their homes. We went to the family of Jan and Truus and their two toddlers (now in their sixties!). The father had for some time been in hiding, to avoid being taken off to a labour camp. This made life extremely difficult for Truus, for obvious reasons, and the loss of his ration card. Their first reaction to us was to express their indescribable joy at being free. They kept repeating this 鈥� never mind the spasmodic shelling and the ongoing privations 鈥� they no longer feared the knock at the door.
They felt so sorry that they had so little to offer their guests in the way of food and drink. I wrote to my wife (still at Longmoor!) describing the experiences here, and in a short time a wonderful parcel arrived containing tea, sugar, Horlicks and powdered egg. How she had acquired these priceless treasures I cannot relate here, but the sight of them had an amazing effect on Truus. She literally shouted 鈥淩EAL Tea!!鈥� and danced on the spot.
The fun we had trying to find out what on earth we were supposed to do with the powdered egg became a tale that was told and told again over the last fifty-plus years. For our two families became life-long friends, often exchanging visits, getting to know the two other children that came along, and their grandchildren. Sadly Jan died some time ago and Truus died at Christmas 2002. We always enjoyed our trips to Holland, we even got to know the neighbours; the people were always friendly and welcoming, and 90% spoke English! To stress this aspect of the Dutch, I recall an episode on a visit there some 15 years ago. We were visiting one of the splendid war museums, our host, a friend of Truus, was at the counter paying for admission, when suddenly there came the sound of raised, angry voices. Then the attendant came round to me and said, 鈥淗e should not have paid for you, a veteran. This is your museum. We do not forget. We do not forget.鈥�

I鈥檓 glad you weren鈥檛 killed, Grandad.

My last memory is that of a conversation I had with my grandson some twelve years ago, when he was about six or seven. We were in a Little Chef restaurant and he was enjoying his beans on toast, or whatever. Suddenly he turned to me and said,
鈥淵ou were in the war, weren鈥檛 you, Grandad?鈥�
鈥淵es,鈥� I replied.
鈥淎 lot of people got killed, didn鈥檛 they?鈥�
鈥淵es, I鈥檓 afraid so.鈥�
鈥淚鈥檓 glad you weren鈥檛 killed, Grandad,鈥� (then a puzzled frown), 鈥渙r else you wouldn鈥檛 have been my Grandad 鈥� and I鈥檓 glad you are.鈥�
And I鈥檓 very thankful that I am. How many thousands didn鈥檛 have the chance to become a Grandad 鈥� or Grandma?
鈥淭hey shall grow not old鈥︹��..鈥�

Entered on behalf of Cpl John by Petersfield Library

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