大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People`s War site by Alan Magson of Age Concern Bradford and District on behalf of Edward Walker, and has been added to the site with his permission. The author fully understands the site`s terms and conditions.

Another famous force in the Western Desert Campaign was Popski's Private Army. This was led by a Polish Major, Pop-something-ski, who was a noted rebel with no heed of Governmental Orders, who was promoted to Colonel and allowed to recruit a small Polish Squadron, plus various odds and sods, which like the Long Range Desert Group made substantial additions to war in the desert, but was totally oblivious to what others were doing. On one occasion when we were practising wet landings prior to the proposed invasion of Leros, Samos and Kos - Greek islands occupied by the Germans - we joined a Greek Army Unit on a Landing Ship. There were a small number of Sergeants and a large number of Lieutenants and Captains, with a Major in charge. All were tall, very broad and muscular, and carrying the heaviest packs we had seen. Lifting one of them off the deck was as much as I could manage. I could not have lifted one onto my shoulder, much less carried one. When they hoisted their packs and moved off, they were all leaning forward - if they had straightened up they would have fallen over backwards.
After the Desert war we ended up in North Africa - Djelli - and had a few weeks' rest and relaxation, then off to Italy. We embarked in a rough old tramp steamer bound for Naples with a company of Toureg tribesmen from the Atlas Mountains with their womenfolk, suitably veiled and herded like cattle. They obviously did not want us to see them or be near them. They were a fearsome bunch and had a shocking record of raping and pillaging in Italy. Not that the Eighth Army were guiltless of pillaging. As the Germans retreated, our blokes with mine detectors moved in and made the roads safe from mines and did a rough check for booby-traps before the 'lads' checked the buildings and looked at any disturbed patches of ground (buried caches of wine were often found. It tasted like vinegar but was consumed regardless). The latter seemed a dangerous business but I did not hear of accidents resulting, even though the mine removal was often only a token affair. Later, when the Italian population were returning to their homes and farms, there were occasional fatalities and limbs blown off by mines. This was really disgusting when children were involved whilst playing in the fields. There was often a dreadful stench of dead animals that had also been killed. This stink was widespread because the Germans and Italians used a lot of horse drawn carts during their retreats, which were targeted by our planes. The dead animals were simply pushed to the side of the road or into ditches.
We were soon returned to Naples and then shipped to the Anzio beachhead. Anzio and Nettuno houses were mostly minus doors that had been used to "floor" and "ceiling" the front line trenches. Life on the beachhead was regularly noisy. The Germans were very methodical - "set in their ways". Each day when we had an evening meal, they would shell the rear lines and mortar-bomb the front lines and regularly bring up from the rear a huge railway gun. I cannot remember if it used 12" or 16" shells but as they passed over the noise was deafening - like a train in a tunnel.
Odd memories remain. We used to "borrow" the observation post of the 80th Scottish Medium Artillery battery, which was a fork in a tree with a 3' square of armour-plate suspended in front of the fork. This was located on the edge of a wooded area overlooking the mined "No Man's Land" of what had presumably been grazing land, across which we looked onto a similar wooded area occupied by the Germans. Whoever was on duty up the tree scanned the enemy area with binoculars. One morning very early I saw a German wearing white braces facing a shrub with the sun glinting on a mirror, thereon having a shave. I just could not make an issue of it. There was another "No Man's Land" area which included a railway embankment with a road passing through it and a body in the middle of the road. When I asked, I was told that it was booby-trapped and it was simply left there for weeks.
The places we used as observation posts frequently bordered on sunken tracks used by ambulances after dark collecting wounded men from the front lines. Enemy patrols would occasionally ambush the returning ambulances and rob the passengers of arms, money, cigarettes, cameras and rings and watches. Both sides regarded this activity as fair game.
We would spend three to five days at the "Front", often in slit trenches, then back to the rear for a wash and shave and a change of underclothes and food rather better than 'K' rations. Initially, we were attached to the Eighth Army, but after a few weeks we were attached to the American Fifth Army under General Mark Clark and known as the British Increment, 6th Corps Artillery (Vicarty only). This was another world! We lived like Lords compared with our previous existence. The days at the Front differed in that the tinned rations were of greater variety, was much tastier and there was considerably more of it. Breakfast in the rear echelon was bacon, sausage, pancakes, etc followed by a visit to tables containing all toiletries, sweets and chewing gum and a choice of 200 packs of cigarettes - all free to take as much as you like.
Regimentation was typified by the relationship with the unit's Medical Officer, a Major who came from one of the Southern States and answered to the name of "Rebel".
The time we spent in the trenches was completely wasted. Likewise our resources. In addition to our American White's Armoured scout car, which carried everything we could possibly need, we had acquired a Jeep with a Bren machine gun which we loaded with every third round an incendiary. This made aiming child's play as we could follow the bullets' trajectory all the way to the target. It made the Tommy gun seem like a toy. Imagine, four people, two vehicles and, in the year or so that we were functioning, we never contributed anything of any use to the war effort!
On the night of the breakout from the beachhead it was "heads down" for us in our slit trenches as both sides shelled and mortared each other's front lines. Then the Green Howards (a Yorkshire regiment) who were our neighbours went "over the top" and fought the Germans into a retreat. A lot of lives were lost on both sides, which was typical of the Italian campaign. In the initial landings at Anzio the Guards Brigade fought a long and bloody battle in a "built up" area known as the "Factory". When it was over the survivors did not number enough to make up a Company and were returned to the U.K. Monte Cassino and the battles to cross the rivers on the drive northwards cost countless lives. I often wondered if the Germans were losing as many men as we were.
After Anzio we were ensconced in a seaside villa at Lido di Roma - a beautiful place where we picked and ate cherries whilst walking round. The Italian family who lived next door was very hospitable and we lived extremely well by virtue of an ongoing trade - cigarettes, tea and sugar in exchange for meals. We had a few trips (day trips that is) to Rome, which had been declared an "open city" and bypassed the Germans. The Jeep was in use most days.
Unfortunately, one evening when the group were moaning about Army life, I suggested that we should have a mini rebellion with all "bull" being banned otherwise we would all apply for a transfer back to General Service. The Artillery Lance Corporal immediately reported this to the Artillery Captain and I was drafted in disgrace to the nearest naval base at Civitavecchia forthwith. After a few months of twelve-hour duty watches and wandering around the countryside climbing trees to eat the fruit, thereon I lived the simple life and applied to join a Combined Operations Unit which would make a change, and was drafted to Naples and then to Ancona which is on the north eastern side of Italy. What a dump! By various awkward methods of not really carrying out orders I was soon drafted to Malta and spent a couple of weeks scrounging passage in trawlers before I arrived there. After a while I went on a course to improve my chances of promotion whilst waiting for a draft back to the U.K. since my tour of overseas duty was completed.
I finally arrived in England and reached home a week before Christmas 1944. Gwen and I married on the 30th December, a beautiful day, naturally, and went to Grange-over-Sands for a fortnight's honeymoon. Even though strict rationing was in force the "black market" must have been better there than most places because the hotel put on really first class meals. The six weeks leave was over all too soon and I had to return to Chatham and was installed as an instructor in the Signals School. Gwen followed me down and lived with family in Gillingham and I could spend several evenings a week and most weekends with her. After two months we had to part company again, when I was drafted to Petersfield on the south coast for more instructor duties, which lasted until May 1945 when I was given draft leave prior to being shipped out to Trincomalee, the port for Columbo in Ceylon, to assist in the organising of Party Sun, the invasion force for Hong Kong, which was occupied by the Japanese. In due course we embarked in a Landing Ship carrying landing barges and 30cwt and 15cwt lorries and a number of Jeeps and Wireless trucks, and a mixed crew of soldiers, sailors and marines. We were en route to Hong Kong when the atom bombs were dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, so instead of a fight, we simply sailed into the bay and landed on Stonecutters Island, erected aerials (a major operation since we were establishing communication with Rugby and Whitehall) and set up a Wireless Transmitter station. The island had been unoccupied for three years and was over-run with snakes ranging from 2 to 12 footers! Fortunately, they were more frightened of us than we needed to be of them, but when walking through overgrown land and having a huge snake leap up from a few feet in front and shoot off with violent leaps into deep cover, it was unnerving to put it mildly.
In November my seven years of active service was ended and I flew from Kowloon to the Philippines, then to north Australia and Sidney. That seems easy but it took ten days of scrounging flights in tatty cargo planes from one island to another and only eating occasionally. I had to wait in Sidney and again in Fremantle (the port for Perth) before getting a berth on a troopship for the U.K. (I've just remembered that I was a member of a singing quartet which the Petty Officers put on to entertain the troops.) I was "demobbed" - given a civilian suit and raincoat etc and arrived home a few days before Christmas 1945.
A few weeks later a letter from the Admiralty reminded me that I had not completed the paperwork for the five year enrolment in the Naval Reserve which was part of the package I had signed for in 1938. I wrote to whoever was in charge stating, in barrack-room language, exactly what I thought of the Royal Navy, the Admiralty and the Officer class in particular. I received a terse reply from Whitehall stating that in view of my attitude they would not proceed any further with the matter, but in the event of hostilities, I would be classed as a deserter. Which was exactly what I had hoped for. I was also demoted to Leading Telegraphist.
As it turned out, the rest of my life was, thanks to Gwen's forbearance and intuitive assessment of unsuitable company, a "piece of cake".

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