大象传媒

A Silent Pal

I joined the Royal Marines at the age of 18. On completion of our training we all joined a new, flat-bottomed Landing Craft Flack. We picked this up in Troon, Scotland 鈥� Royal Marines for the gunnery and sailors to man the craft 鈥� and sailed on Christmas Eve. From now on it was training again. We trained hard and in a short time became proficient in the bombardment of the shores where troops and equipment were being landed and in escorting supply ships from across the Atlantic.
The great day arrived. From the south of England we left the Isle of Wight behind us, only to bob around in heavy seas for another day. This was not a pleasant time in very extreme weather and in a heavily laden, flat-bottomed craft. When the time came, we were to be one of the first craft to see France the next morning. It was a long, dark night; no lights on the craft. We were told to get some sleep on deck 鈥� it might be the last we would have for some time. At around 4am we were all alert and on the lookout for anything suspicious. The previous day we had been shown large photos of our target in the form of strips pinned on the mess deck bulkhead. This was our target and it was to be destroyed
At around 6am our craft came through a thick mist and there was our target as seen on the photos. Years later we found that this mist was a smoke-screen laid by the RAF. By this time I was positioned on the deck at the bow of the craft with a Lewis machine-gun. Even though my feet could touch the forward gun turret, to me I was out on my own at the front and so uncertain about the future. By this time I found I had a new pal with me. I kept talking to him, but he never answered. Then, as if someone had blown a whistle, all hell broke loose on both sides, with shells hitting the water, each one nearer the craft. We were in action. I forgot my pal. When I squeezed the trigger for the first time, all my fear disappeared.
Our job completed, we returned to escort the landing craft carrying men and machines onto the beaches. Our casualties were light and were treated by our 鈥楽ick Bay Tiffy鈥� naval male nurse who was himself one of the walking wounded. But for the men from the landing crafts that we were escorting in to the beaches, it was horrible in the extreme. We do not wish to see the like of it again.
A few days later, giving protective cover to the building of the Mulberry Harbours, I had time to think, to recall the first few hours. Where had my pal gone? It struck me that he may have been required on the other side, for when I was talking to him in my thoughts I recited over and over again 鈥楯esu lover of my soul鈥�. I was to call on his presence a couple more times later on.
The time came to take our damaged craft back to England. The first small craft to come alongside as we sailed up the river near East Budleigh was WRENS with provisions. They came aboard and hugged all the men, the 鈥渓ucky boys鈥�. As I looked rather young, I had a rather large Petty Officer, but I think she was the mothering type. Lots of us went as boys, but came back men. Each watch on board went on four days leave before returning to pick up a sister craft that had been repaired and was now ready for active service.
Our craft was joined by one other and two paddle steamers from the Thames, which were now carrying anti-aircraft guns for air defence. Our job was to intercept the aircraft carrying the unmanned Doodle Bugs on their way to London.
I don鈥檛 think this operation was so successful and our craft was sent to the Dutch canals to try to find the bases for the V2 rockets that were to be launched against England from long range. We made friends with the Danish people on the way and ended up in a place called Zeeland. I went back after the war but never found Zeeland. The months passed by and we were in Brussels when we heard that the President of the USA had died. We were sent back by truck to our craft and were home on leave for VE Day.
There followed a spell of intensive land training to make us ready for another part of the world 鈥� the Far East. One particular morning we came out of the sea at about 6.30 hours. We had no clothes on, our clothes for the day being still dry under the waterproof night sheets that we slept under. Our officer sat us down and read a paper telling us that something called the A Bomb had been dropped on Japan 鈥� a bomb so destructive that it might mean the end of the war.
For the rest of my stay in the Royal Marines I became house guard with five other marines to Admiral Sir John Cunningham, Commander in Chief for the Mediterranean, based in Naples and Valletta, Malta.

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