大象传媒

The following is the first installment of the Memories of my Uncle Jim who served in the 1st and 8th Army and who as agreed them being posted.
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CHAPTER ONE
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I JOIN UP

I was born nineteen days after the 1914-18 War ended. Little did I know that I would one day take part in a war that would last for six years. It was declared on 3rd September 1939.
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But a few months before, all men of 20 years had to register for what was known as The Militia, and do six months military service. I was in the second group, but the war was declared before the first group had completed their six months, so they were kept in. After very little training they went to France, and some never came home again.
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I went to Mansfield Town Hall for my medical on 6th October and was passed A1. I was asked my preference of regiment, and went for the artillery. I received my calling-up papers early in November 1939, and was to report to 12th Reg Royal Artillery at Abergele, North Wales. On the 24th November I received a letter cancelling these instructions and to return the four shilling postal order and travel warrant. At that time I was working at Silverhill Colliery. On the 6th August 1940 I was again called up, to the Royal Inniskilling Fusiliers and had to report to Fulwood Barracks, Preston.
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I left home at 7.00 am and met my fianc茅e on her way to work. I then got on the 鈥楶enny Emma鈥� at the Town Station down to Sutton Junction. We stopped at Ambergate where more men got on for the same destination. Arriving at the barracks we were put in a schoolroom. After a while we were issued with a cheese sandwich like a doorstep and the next thing we were taken to Manchester Station, next stop Stranraer in Scotland and on to boat to Larne, Northern Ireland.
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I have been back to Fulwood Barracks a few times since to meetings of the Eight Army Veterans Association.
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From Larne we went by train to Omargh, County Tyrone. On arrival we marched through the town to the depot. I smile when I think how each man had a small cardboard box on a piece of string which contained a gas mask. I myself had somehow obtained a khaki haversack so I didn鈥檛 feel so self-conscious.
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The first week was inoculations and dental treatment. There were two chairs in the dentists, and those who already had treatment were quite happy to 鈥榩ut the wind-up鈥� us yet to be seen 鈥� saying one was known as 鈥榯he butcher鈥�. No need to tell you whose chair I landed in. In all my service, I never wished to go home as much as I did that night 鈥� the pain was murder. We were known as August 8 Platoon. I remember the sergeants. One was fond of tapping Fusiliers for a bob or two, the other seemed to take a dislike to me which carried on until I became his equal. I later met the other as a lance corporal.
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I was very faddy about food before I joined up but it only took a week before I would have eaten the plate, never mind what was on it. I enjoyed the drill and rifle drill, the 40 minutes PT before breakfast. Also boxing in the gym, until I cam up against one with his nose all over his face. He hit me and everything went black. I wasn鈥檛 so keen after. We were issued with battledress and equipment and rifle from the first War, while we were in the depot. All the barrack rooms were built of stone and round the square were a number of artillery guns and machine guns from the 1914-18 War. Opposite the guardroom was the sentry box, and if you were on guard duty you did it properly, like you see the Guardsmen on the Palace. And on leaving the barracks you had to look in the mirror on the guardroom wall to check your dress and report to the Guard Commander to receive a number which you had to remember when you booked in.
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All this for two bob a day 鈥� so a cup of char and a wad, ten Woodbines, a black of blanco and Brasso didn鈥檛 leave a lot left. Some chaps used to receive parcels from home and I鈥檓 sure they used to hide under the blankets to eat the contents. I was only sent some cigarettes once and they were sent to Armargh, instead of Omagh so I never received them.
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Eventually time came for the first leave, which I believe was ten days, bearing in mind we had to cross the Irish Sea both ways, so we didn鈥檛 get ten days at home. I got married on this leave, and at the time of writing these notes were have recently celebrated our Diamond Wedding.
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Leave over, drafts were marching out of the deport behind the pipes and drums, some to the 1st Battalion in Burma, some to the 2nd Battalion. I went to the 6th Battalion in Belfast, which was just forming up. We were stationed in the old Cro Brewery on Raven Hill Road, West Belfast. This was on the side of the River Lagan and we had quite a number of rats for company. While there I went on an NCO Cadre and got my first tape. A short while after I was sent to Scarborough to spend a month with the Royal Engineers to learn trenching, wiring, Bangalore torpedoes and pontoon bridging. While we were in Belfast it was very badly bombed on two nights and we had the task of recovering the bodies.
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When I got my first stripe I decided how I would go about my job 鈥� firm but fair 鈥� no favourites. My first job after Scarborough was in charge of a party doing trenching and wiring. We did double apron and triple dannert wiring. That was when I had the first test of my authority. I gave a Fusilier an order and he told me what to do. I realised if I allowed him to get away with it, the rest would think they also could get away with it. I put him on report and consequently he was put on jankers and confined to barracks. He also lost his sleeping out pass. Needless to say, he altered his attitude after. And as a Lance Corporal I was sent many time to fetch men back who had gone absent etc.
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And I was the same with NCOs of the same rank as myself and it made my job much easier as I don鈥檛 remember any one questioning my orders often. You got to know the chaps who thought they were fly. I have one in mind particularly. He came to A Company from Brigade Headquarters. I was Orderly Corporal at the time. I saw him that day, after that he was missing for two days. On his return I asked him where he had been. His reply was that he remembered getting on a tram and didn鈥檛 know what happened after. So I thought 鈥淚鈥檝e got your number, lad, I鈥檒l watch you鈥�. I had occasion to put him on report later on in Bangor. I was Orderly Corporal one Saturday and had told him to report to the Cook Sergeant for Dining Room Orderly at tea-time. Getting towards tea-time I was waking down Grays Hill when I met a Fusilier. I asked 鈥淗ave you seen Fusilier X?鈥� His reply was 鈥淵es, but he said if you see Lance Corporal Hughes say you haven鈥檛 seen me.鈥�
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He was soon to learn I was smarter than him, as I knew that he had got himself invited into a house, incidentally next door to A Company Office. It meant that I had to go round the billets to find a volunteer to do the duty, something I hated to do on Saturday afternoon as I knew every man should take his turn on fatigues. I then went to the house in question, knocked on the door, the lady came to the door and I enquired if Fusilier X was there. A voice immediately said 鈥淲ho鈥檚 there?鈥� and my reply was 鈥淣ever mind who鈥檚 there, you get outside at once鈥�. He didn鈥檛 try it on again.
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I鈥檓 sorry to say some NCOs took the easy way out. I never did so to some I had no birth certificate. We did some sandbagging at Holywood Barracks. A sergeant was in charge and I noticed that two chaps did nothing, while some were wheeling barrows all the time. I told the Sergeant, his reply was they were alright. I didn鈥檛 think so, I made them have the barrows for the rest of the day. I could hear them saying what they would do to me. All talk, they knew I had the whip hand. One of these was one of the absentees that I went to pick up after this incidents: again he was all talk, he wasn鈥檛 so big after doing time in detention.
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While in Belfast we did some good route marches and by the time we got back on the outskirts of the city we were on our chinstraps. But the good citizens didn鈥檛 see us like that because the pipes and drums were waiting for us, and as soon as they struck up we marched as if we had just started a twenty miler instead of just finishing.
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Before I joined an Irish Regiment I knew very little about the Irish people but the majority proved to be most generous. Myself and another chap out of A Company were invited for meals by a family, and my wife and I spent a fortnight with them after the Way. Most of the churches gave free tea and cakes etc to the troops. A similar thing also happened when we were in Scotland, but I can鈥檛 remember it being so in my own country.
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We left Belfast and went to Bangor which is a nice little seaside resort. We were billeted in a number of empty private houses. Down a street, known as Grays Hill, was a small caf茅 kept by a lady named Jean. The lads used to congregate there and were entertained by Fusilier John Turnbull on the piano. Jean used to bring a large teapot and a heap of scones etc, place them on a table 鈥� some were paid for, a lot were not 鈥� she knew but never once said a word. While in Bangor we did a route march to the Irish Fusilier camp in Ballykinlan. I am not sure of the distance but we spent the night in a field and carried on the next morning. At the camp was a building known as 鈥楽andy鈥檚 Home鈥� and run by two old ladies, who after a bit of hymn singing would issue cups of tea and a cake. I became a good hymn singer. On the march back to Bangor quite a few men were picked up by a fifteen hundred weight truck owing to blistered feet. Being a newly promoted Lance Jack I wasn鈥檛 going to give in, but 鈥渙h, the agony鈥�. After each hourly break of ten minutes, on starting again, it was like walking on fire until we had been going a while. That last mile into Bangor seemed like ten, my heels were raw and soles all blisters.
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The 6th Battalion was formed in Holywood, in October 1940, the Commanding Officer being Lt Col W H Stitt, DSO, MC, who was still in charge in Belfast and Bangor. In January 1942 the Battalion crossed over to Frinton-on-Sea in Essex, where Lt Col Macartney-Filgate took over command. This was a very select place. I can鈥檛 remember there being a chip shop there. By April we joined the Brigade in Shakers Wood in Didlington in Norfolk. It was not the best of camps 鈥� Nissen huts, plenty of mud and very few facilities, and nine miles to the nearest cinema etc. The Brigade was comprised of the 1st Battalion Royal Irish Fusiliers, 6th Royal Inniskilling Fusiliers, and 2nd Battalion London Irish Rifles in the 1st Division. While at Didlington I was sent on an anti-tank course with the artillery at Cromer. On my return I received my second stripe. The Brigadier was the O鈥橠onovan who arranged a number of schemes.
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At the end of May we started a move to Scotland. This move was completed in early June and the Brigade assembled in Cumnock in Ayrshire to be part of the 6th Armoured Division. On arrival I was still in A Company which was a rifle company, and we were billeted in bell tents which nearly all let in rain. I remember we had a large number of bikes in the company lines which all disappeared when a new regiments used the camp while we went on a scheme against some commando. According to reports the lads in the "Skins" took this for the real thing because our opponents suffered a number of casualties. We also did a night scheme, learning to work with tanks. And various other kinds of training. The weather was terrible and plenty of mud.
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The battalion received six two-pounder A/T guns so an A/T platoon was formed to which I was sent. It was grand little gun but wasn鈥檛 up to the job when it came up against heavy tanks. I was sent to an Artillery School at Netheravon, on Salisbury Plain, and had a more comprehensive course on the gun as well as firing it. The vehicles we had were Morris Portees which were four wheel drive. The gun could either be towed or loaded, being winched up two steel ramps. On my return to the battalion I received my third stripe.
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The transport drivers laughed at these trucks because they looked a bit old, they had no windscreen, just a canvas which was held up with two straps when needed, but we had the last laugh, they would climb up a house-side, and seats for five in front 鈥� sergeant, lance corporal, layer, loader and driver. Never once were we fast in mud like the ordinary trucks were.
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While in Cumnock my wife, mother and young sister came to visit me - the next time they saw me was three years later. After a good lot of training, I taught myself to ride a motor bike and had a few lesson on the Bren Gun carrier.
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The latter part of June, the Brigadier 鈥楾he O鈥橠onovan鈥� left due to age and Brigadier Nelson Russell took command. The Battalion then moved to a small town called Maybole and we were billeted in an old tannery. While there we all had to fill in a Soldier鈥檚 Will Form. Naturally I left everything to my wife, which wasn't a fat lot. But just looking at the form I must have filled it in before, because when I signed it I was a corporal, at this time I was a sergeant. On 9th November the Battalion packed its bags and we went to Gourock and boarded the Nea Hellus, a Greek ship. We sailed down the Clyde on 15th November 1942 for a supposedly unknown destination.

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