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These are a few stories from my dad’s diary, which he started in 1993 and finished just before his death in 1996. The war stories are only a small part of the diary - but my sister and I are grateful for the opportunity to know a little more about him. He never spoke of the war at all.

Thomas Morgan Williams, Prince of Wales Company, 1st Battalion, The Welsh Guards

Now I will tell you of the bombing of London. This was a time of bravery by all people. From September 1940 until 1944, we were subjected to night bombs and rockets night and day. I will never forget the time after I said ‘’Goodnight’’ to your mother and began my journey back to the billet on Wimbledon Common. I was going up Arthur Road, past Wimbledon Park station, and I reached the top of the hill. I looked back and all I could see was a red mass of flames over London, it was an incredible sight. I sat on the pavement and cried. It was awful to hear the bombs falling and know that people were dying. I felt so useless. It’s a very strange thing, but as time passed, people got used to the bombing and when the sirens sounded, off they would go to the shelters. There they slept, laughed and fed each other, sharing bits they brought with them. I must mention that your grandad was in the Home Guard at the time. When the sirens sounded he used to go out and ‘protect’ The Woodman in Durnsford Road, Many are the stories he told about how, when the sirens went, and people dashed for the shelter, he used to empty the glasses that people had left. He was always happy on such nights! Now we proceed to 1944. Everyone was expecting the second front to liberate Europe. There were thousands of troops in this country, from many other countries: America, Canada, Free French, Poles, Aussies, New Zealanders and many more. This time, we all had the right equipment, a long way from 1938 when some troops had to drill with broom sticks. This was thanks to Lord Beaverbrook, who really upped the munitions industry. So when the second front occurred on the 6th June 1944, we were ready. The 24th Guards Brigade which the 1st Battalion Welsh Guards belonged to, were still in Yorkshire. We had orders to move, so we started a 300 mile walk on 1st June to Newhaven, on the South Coast. We arrived on 12th June and went straight on to a troop ship and away. Well, for days we sailed and all of us thought we were headed for the Far East. We finally arrived at Arromanches in Normandy. Although our troops had landed days before and what with Paratroops and hundreds of bombers and fighters things did not go very well. We pushed forward to just outside Caen Aerodrome and dug in at a place called Cheux, where we waited. A few days later we saw a sight which left us all numb, a thousand bomber raid on Caen and the surrounding area. When we eventually pressed forward, it was surprising that we didn’t see more damage after the raid, but parts of the aeordrome still stood. Whilst at Cheux, I was the platoon runner for 3 Platoon, Prince of Wales Company and I was tired as my job entailed dashing with messages from platoon to Company HQ at all and any time. One night, my platoon officer, Lt. Pomeroy told me to get in the trench and get some sleep as I looked so whacked. He said he would see that I was not disturbed. Well I was, because he was in the next slit trench to me, and although behind us in the next field a battery of 25 pounders were shelling forward positions, the sound of my snoring was worse! He sent me about ½ a mile back behind the guns - I must have been tired!

Lance Corporal Evans, ‘27’ Davies and myself were in a forward position facing towards Caen. We had our instructions that any movement from the front was an enemy. We had a wonderful field of fire when we observed movement on our front. L/Cpl Evans had a Tommy gun, ‘27’ had a Bren and I was the rifle man. Evans told me to take my time until he said ‘fire’ (only the rifle was to be used until we were certain). From about 20 yards, he said ‘fire’ which I did, only to find that it was Lt.Bruce I had hit. My round had gone through his battle dress, leaving him without a scratch. When we were relieved in the morning, I had to go on Company orders in front of the Company Commander, Major Gresham, who I think would have shot me there and then, not for shooting at an officer, but for missing him!
In 1946, just before demob, we were on parade at Sandown Park (where our holding battalion lived) and who did I meet but Lt. Bruce. He was in a bad state as he had been severely wounded, and had been in and out of hospitals. We had a long chat and quite a laugh. He gave me 10/- to have a drink. I think maybe he gave it to me for being such a bad shot.

Well, we come to August 23rd 1944 and we had orders to advance. This is where it all happened. We were tired and we were on a forward slope. The German 88 millimetre guns were deadly and we were suffering many casualties. Guards Woolley, Wooding and I were surprised by a section of Germans. Not being heroes, we stood there, but they were only boys. So while they were deciding what to do, we did a jump over a low wall towards a copse. There was some firing and later I found a bullet had passed clean through my hand and my right knee cap was bleeding. We were lucky, though and got back and I was sent to the regimental aid post. I had some injections and was bandaged up and sent to the rear field hospital. I was flown home to England in September 1944. Not much fighting after waiting so long, but I didn’t care, I was going home. I never wanted to be a hero as I had seen some good men die and I was glad not to be among them.

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