大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by a volunteer on behalf of and Richard Sharman and has been added to the site with his permission. Richard Sharman fully understands the site鈥檚 terms and conditions.

"My time in the royal tank squadron was long and regimented. I remember the feeling of duty that kept me fighting the Germans and the strict army routine that kept me focused on the job at hand. I fought in the tank squadron from the beginning of the war until 1947, when I was finally shipped home. During this time there were not many moments that I found frightening because of the training I had received. However I distinctly recall one occasion when we were stationed in France after the invasion of 1944. By this time I had received enough preparation for having to fight the German forces. But, my worst moments were always at night, when we were encamped. In order to shelter us from nighttime shell fire, we would dig hollows the size of our own tanks, about 12 inches deep. The soil that we dug up was then mounted on either side of the hole and we would position our tank so that they rested on these banks. By doing so, we were able to sleep during the night without the fear of being shot unexpectedly. But despite this reassurance, the screeching of the bombs as they shot over head filled me with the most incomprehensible dread. The moaning minnies were the worst. They were mortor bombs that dropped from the air like cannons, but blew up on impact. Some poor sods fell victim to these bombs whilst they were sleeping.Only problem was, that it wasn鈥檛 only the explosion that got them. The ground beneath the tanks often fell away, so that the tanks would fall upon the men as they slept.
It was stories like these filled me with fear of closing my eyes when I heard those bombs screeching across the sky. There was always the chance that I could have been next."

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