大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by Norman Wigley of the 大象传媒 Radio Sheffield Action Desk on behalf of Mr George Martin, and has been added to the site with his permission. The author fully understands the site鈥檚 terms and conditions.

This edited account is taken from the book 鈥淐assino to the River Po. Italy 1944-45. A personal account of life and action in a tank troop鈥� written and published by George Martin.

Other parts to this story can be found at:

Part 1: A7832441

Part 2: A7832702

Part 4: A7833152

Part 5: A7833549

Part 6: A7833710

Part 7: A7833837

Part 8: A7833972

Part 9: A7834043

Part 10: A7834179

During the week prior to 4th June 1944, we had occupied ourselves with limited forward movement. Being shot at and shelled was a daily occurrence and we seemed to be getting quite hardened to it. Shells from our guns went the other way of course and we used plenty of H.E. on enemy positions while in support of infantry.

On the Sunday we moved off early, heading north for Rome. We still had a long way to go, but the thought of being one of the first Allied units into Rome spurred us on. Our route was not an easy one 鈥� we had constantly to find diversions round obstacles caused by the enemy, and we soon learned that the most obvious diversions were often mined. Mountain tracks were also hazardous, often only two feet or so wider than the tracks of our tanks.

By the next morning we were on the rolling plains, south east of Rome, open country much more suited to tank actions. We once again found ourselves out in front as the leading troop. It was a lovely sunny morning as we pushed on, mile after mile, with no serious opposition, travelling in arrow-head formation.

Such was the speed of our advance in the lead, that by late morning, the Squadron was spread in line ahead, over a distance of several miles. Ahead was the crest of a rise, and whilst stopped before proceeding beyond the rise, I could see through the heat haze, to my left front, the skyline of Rome.

From what seemed to be a long way off the voice of the Squadron Leader came over the radio. 鈥淧eter 1, where the hell are you?鈥� he asked. 鈥淎bout a mile away 鈥� I can see the skyline of our objective.鈥� I answered, adding, 鈥渨e can probably motor straight in.鈥� Faintly his voice came again - 鈥淧eter 1, you鈥檒l do no such thing, you鈥檙e out on your own with no support near should you run into trouble. You鈥檒l just have to be patient, no visits to the Pope yet. Out.鈥�

We continued ahead but had not gone far when we heard another message, this time an urgent one, 鈥淧eter 1, halt and await instructions, do you hear? Halt in your present position.鈥� 鈥淲ilco 鈥� out,鈥� I replied, wondering what was so urgent. This we did, Sergeant and Corporal, one on each side, we took up defensive positions on the next ridge and waited in the sunshine.
Eventually the rest of the squadron arrived, and all troop leaders were called to an urgent meeting. The Squadron Leader congratulated us on good work today, but looking at me, warned against getting too isolated. We had new orders.

We were now to by-pass Rome, head north east and try to contact the enemy by nightfall. We had our new route which was over mainly open country. I passed this on to my troops and overheard one of the drivers say, 鈥淎ll right isn鈥檛 it? I鈥檒l bet the bloody Yanks won鈥檛 be pushing on to contact the enemy by nightfall, they鈥檒l have their feet up in Rome.鈥� A sentiment shared by many of the troop!

The move was one of confusion; other troops to our flank had to allow us to filter through while they attempted to drive eastwards. By late afternoon we had arrived at the road which was to be our new centre line north of Rome. Our squadron was ordered to keep to the road and I was in the lead, Sergeant and Corporal following, with the rest of the squadron strung out to the rear. 鈥楢鈥� and 鈥楥鈥� Squadrons, I understood, were covering open ground to our flanks and rear. We pushed ahead and the drive was uneventful for a few miles. By now we were well clear of other troops and the road ahead had the uneasy feeling of 鈥榥o man鈥檚 land鈥�.

Suddenly, I noticed movement in the distance and we were soon overtaken by 3 American Tank Destroyers operated by a Free French unit. They were being shelled, but increased speed to get out of the way. At this point, we were ordered to halt while the front was stabilised.

Evening was drawing on when we received orders to move, and to push on along the road with us in the lead again. By now the shelling had eased to a few shots just to annoy us. Ahead and on our left stood a house. We moved forward slowly, but I could see no sign of life or any movement, when suddenly a solid A.P. shot roared past my tank from behind! I reported details to HQ; the Squadron Leader said, 鈥淚mpossible.鈥� As he spoke a second shot roared past, this time even nearer. I ordered our driver, 鈥淔ull speed ahead and get behind that house.鈥� We were certain the shots were from our own troops.

By this time we were going flat out, 40 mph at least, and with the house just 12 yards away, I thought we had made it. Suddenly there was a terrific thud; an explosion on the left front of the tank. Sparks seemed to fly in all directions inside the turret and there was a horrible crunching and grinding as the tank, minus its left track and driving sprocket, lurched and rolled to a halt behind the house. There was no fire and the shot had not penetrated the armour. I radioed HQ, feeling more than a little annoyed and passed on my belief that our circle friends were responsible. We surveyed the remains of our tank and knew its fighting days were over. Attwood, my driver, said simply, 鈥淪he鈥檚 finished, and we鈥檝e been damned lucky.鈥�

As no further A.P. shots came across, I felt my theory was correct and the message had got through. I took over my troop corporal鈥檚 tank and reported to my Squadron Leader, 鈥淧eter 1鈥檚 a write off, so I鈥檓 taking over another vehicle.鈥� Squadron Leader replied, 鈥淲ell done - our circle friends have asked me to pass on their apologies for the error. Out.鈥�

After another 500 yards, we got the order to halt and awaited the arrival of infantry to consolidate our position. On return to harbour I made a point of seeking out who had shot us. I met a very contrite 鈥楥鈥� Squadron sergeant who explained that they had been told that anything they saw would be German. They thought it was a Sherman they had seen but were ordered to fire. I accepted his apologies, he wished me luck and we shook hands.

Pr-BR

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