大象传媒

William Hunt of Swanwick, Derbyshire, dictated the following account, to us his children, before his death in 1994.

In 1934, Lilian Taylor, also of Swanwick, and I, married and we went to live in our new house in Alfreton.

The house cost 拢470. Little did I know, that only two years later, I would be also obliged to take out another mortgage to buy my Father and Mother鈥檚 house, so that they could move to Skegness, and only a year after that, in 1937, now saddled with two mortgages the opportunity arose for me to start my first butchery business.

This was to be in a "lean-to", on the side of a detached house at Leabrooks. Whilst it set me forward in my career, it also landed me deeply in debt of one kind and another. The premises had previously been a "Handy-craft" supply shop selling wood beading and similar items and so needed converting into a butcher's shop with the purchase of costly equipment, such as a mincer and refrigerator, and shortly afterwards a motor vehicle.

Then, In 1941 His Majesty requested me to join his fighting forces...an offer that I could not refuse!...and so I found myself as No.7943487, Private Hunt, at Perham Down Training Depot on Salisbury Plain, having sold all my equipment and the business.

It was as if a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders, with the shedding of all my financial responsibilities.

I remained at Perham Down until Christmas Eve, when we were given our first leave. The train home arrived in Derby after midnight, and the last bus had departed, so I started to walk back to Alfreton some 15 miles, hoping to get a lift. I had walked as far as Marehay, before a car stopped with a grateful driver who had previously been falling asleep at the wheel and welcomed the chance of a bit of company and a chat: He had driven all the way from the South coast.

After the 2 days embarkation leave, I was told to report to Catterick camp, then on January 2nd at 12 o'clock, midnight we were taken to Catterick railway station in lorries, and put on-board the train for Liverpool.

We did not get much sleep that night, and I can remember being shunted around at Sheffield, where we were given a cup of tea. At Salford a colleague, Allan Howard, turned to me and pointed out a smoking house-chimney close by.... "That's my Mother's house", he said, I think we were all feeling pretty homesick.

We were billeted at the Shore Street Barracks in Liverpool, until the 9th January 1942, when we boarded the "Otranto", a ship of some 2000 tons. It had been built to accommodate 1600 persons; but on this trip it was to hold 3000 troops, its own crew, and a further crew required abroad for a return trip to Britain.

I have never been so seasick in all my life: After two days at sea the sickness started and lasted for a full week. Eventually two of my mates took me off deck, washed and shaved me, and gave me a meal of cheese and pickles, for two hours I paced the decks, but then recovered. They told me later that I had literally turned green!

After three weeks at sea we called at Freetown in the Gold Coast (Now Ghana), and a week later we sailed past Capetown and docked at Durban. On arrival we were given our first leave ashore for many weeks, but I fell for guard duty, and missed the first day!

There had been one or two incidents in our crossing of the Atlantic; in the middle of one night there was a large bang and a shudder of the ship. We were to learn later that a lone trading vessel on its way towards England had ploughed straight through the middle of our convoy and it had been necessary to throw our ship's engines into reverse to avoid a collision. At another time there was a similar bang when another ship in the convoy failed to follow the zigzag course instructions and narrowly missed a collision with our ship. The two ships swerved onto parallel courses with hardly an inch of clearance between them.

After leaving Durban we sailed up into the Indian Ocean between Africa and the island of Madagascar, following which some troopships of the convoy turned off towards India. We sailed on Northwards to Aden, where we queued for a week, to get through the Suez Canal. The heat was stifling and we could only lie and wait for our turn, in a hot sweat.

I had, however, invested 27s/6d (拢1-38p) on a pair of hair clippers, and developed a regular trade in haircutting; contributions were thrown into my cap, all contributed except my colonel; I suppose a privilege of rank!

We came ashore in the second week of March, and were told to line up in alphabetical order: when the "L"s were called, Private Little, who was 5ft 1in reported to the desk followed by Private Long, who was 6ft 6ins: chaos erupted, as the adjutant thought that they were pulling his leg. We were divided into 3 regiments, with about 600 men in each of the 2nd Royal Gloucester Hussars, and the 1st and 2nd County of London Yeomanry (C.L.Y.). I was in the Gloucester鈥檚, and was pleased not to be with the plum-in-the-mouth Londoners! I was allocated to "A" Squadron with about 150 others.

We were allocated to "Cruiser" 20ton tanks, 4 men to each, with the commander, a driver, a gunner and of course, my post, the wireless operator; although we were all trained in each others tasks in case of mishap. The tank was principally controlled by means of two levers; one on the driver's left for the left track and one on his right for the right track; push forward for acceleration, pull backwards for brake. Steering was achieved by a combination of both. Training continued, principally in wireless operation until May, at Heliopolis or "Sun-City".

There were many stories and incidents at this time, some funny, some more serious. I remember we had troubles with a nearby Egyptian camp, when one of our troop, returning back to camp late one night, was ambushed kicked and beaten by them. I spent the following day sharpening dozens of knives and that night, we crept into their camp and sought our revenge. The Colonel had to be subsequently called in to sort the matter out with his Egyptian counterpart; and we got reprimanded and reported in despatches and hit the national press.

On another occasion a guard on a particularly dark night, heard a strange shuffling noise out in the desert, as he strained to identify what it was, he heard it getting nearer and nearer. He could see nothing, and was almost on the point of panic, when a camel brushed by his nose, almost knocking him down! There were also stories of men taking shovels into the desert to perform their toilet duties, straying too far from the camp and getting lost.

The battlefront was disarrayed several times by Rommel's troops and we were finally driven back to El-Alamein, about 60 miles from Cairo. On the 23rd October 1942, the 8th Army "Desert Rats" won one of the most decisive battles of the war and in so doing, turned the tide in the northern desert, and also gave a tremendous boost to the whole war effort.

"Monty's" name was pushed forward as being the battle commander, but we regarded Field Marshal Alexander as the man really in charge. We did not like Monty. He dealt too much in numbers!

For the battle we were given "Sherman" tanks, which weighed 35 tons and cost, at that time, 拢35,000 each. Three weeks after the start of the battle, we finally got out on Friday 13th! I was fortunate, but the Army had suffered great losses, and as a result they split us up and everybody was sent to different Regiments. I was allocated to the 4th Queen's Own Hussars, Winston Churchill's Regiment in which he had undertaken his training, years before. In January 1943 we sailed from Beirut, in a minelayer called the "Welshman" and landed at Famagusta on the Mediterranean island of Cyprus. I have since learnt from a colleague, Frank Hopkinson, that the ship was torpedoed only a week later.

At Famagusta we were loaded like animals, into open cattle trucks on a narrow gauge railway, to a chorus of "booing" and "baying", especially when we found out that the officers were all in carriages at the front. In the early hours of the morning we arrived at Kokkinni Trimathia; a following lorry arrived with our kit bags and in the darkness unloaded them into a heap. We bedded down in Nissan huts and slept for the rest of the night, to discover in the morning that our kit had been unloaded into a pool of mud, three or four inches deep. We attempted to clean up and dry our gear, despite the incessant rain, which continued for many days. After the first night we were moved into tents, six per tent, and found a river of rain water running through the middle; so we set ourselves to work and dug "irrigation" channels round each bed, with an outlet at the lower end of the tent!

When the weather finally cleared, we commenced training in "Humberette" armoured cars; I was given the command of a vehicle with a crew of driver and wireless operator. We patrolled the island, especially at night; after several days we finished up near the coast, the bathing was excellent! I remember one morning when the siren went off, it had been reported that a parachutist had landed. My driver had reported sick, and so Corporal Kent commanded and I drove to the reported area, but it was all a false alarm. That was the only incident of my stay, apart from a visit by Winston Churchill, who made a special call after one of his conferences. We remained on the island until July 1943, when we were shipped back to Egypt.

Back in Egypt, all was now quiet, and after a few weeks we were told to pack our kit, ready to return to Britain, you can imagine the excitement. Then at the last moment it was all cancelled, because of the outcome of the Mena Conference and we were required to protect the delegates. I remember when the conference was over we had a parade of vehicles, armoured cars and tanks for Churchill's inspection.

There were a number of other subsequent occasions when we had our hopes built up for a spell of leave in Britain, but on each occasion something occurred which stopped this happening. Then in April 1944 we again boarded ship, to be taken across the Mediterranean to the port of Taranto in the heel of Italy. We were sent to the nearby village of Altamura, where we were given further extensive training, before being moved to Bari, a town on the East coast of Italy. At Bari we were actually billeted on the steps of the football stadium, whilst waiting for the 1st. Armoured Division to assemble. At this time, the Americans were carrying out daylight raids on Czechoslovakia and the aircraft for these raids took off from a nearby airfield. I have never seen so many aircraft circling in the air at the same time, with ten squadrons of two hundred and fifty planes each, making a total of two thousand, five hundred "Flying Fortress's" for the raid.

We moved northwards, along the east coast of Italy; one afternoon we stopped at a village until the next morning, and it was there that I took the opportunity to make a fruitcake using basic rations that we had saved. There was no oven, scales, mixing bowl or recipe, but it turned out to be a perfect cake! For the oven I used an upturned biscuit tin, suspended over the "Primus" stove, with two iron bars through holes in the tin. The cake mixture was put into a "Dixie" and put into the "oven" for, a guessed, one and a half hours. It was beautiful!

Thereafter it was a hard fight all the way; on a number of occasions we would leave dummy vehicles and makeshift tanks to try to deceive the enemy, as to where our strength lay; on other occasions we would be called to the west coast to assist the Americans. Our troops were actually held back to allow the Americans to enter Rome first.

One particular day, after passing through fields and then climbing a hill in bottom gear, our driver allowed the tank to coast downhill. It gathered too much speed and still in bottom gear, he let the clutch out which promptly broke one of the prop-shafts. We had no option but to wait for the arrival of the recovery vehicle and so we were left behind. Our officer went on with another vehicle. The recovery vehicle arrived at half-past-two on the following day, and we learnt that our troop had been called into action that Tuesday morning. On the tank that had replaced ours, the two operators had been killed and our Officer had been badly injured with the loss of both legs and hands; he died four days later. Nineteen soldiers had gone in on a reconnaissance, and had reported movements, seen on the Coriano Ridge. They had been given the answer that it was OK and that they were New Zealanders, and were ordered to press on. Unbeknown to the radio base, the Germans had re-taken the Ridge overnight, and they proceeded to shell our troops. Only one tank out of the six returned, with three men.

Some time afterwards, I had another very lucky escape. Our tanks had been adapted to carry "Bailey Bridge" materials, to bridge the River Po and we set out to be in our correct positions. We came under heavy attack, from first the Dive-bombers, then the heavy bombers, then the artillery, all starting one after the other. Then the flame throwers followed, streaming their flaming oil over the banked up riverside, with the British "dug in" on the south side and the Germans on the north. At dusk, under heavy mortar attack, our six tanks moved to their detailed positions and numbered off to deliver the material to the Engineers. The bridge was built by three o' clock in the morning and handed over to the 1st. Armoured Division. The following day, on return to the regiment, the Troop Officer said that he wished me to move onto the Colonel's tank, but I told him that it was like moving home and that I did not wish to go. But he pressed me and I finally agreed. That night six vehicles were lent to "A" Squadron and they went into action the following morning. The only casualty was my tank, and the only soldier killed was the corporal doing my job.

I was sent on an Instructors course with two other corporals, and we were stationed in a hospital north of Rome in a town called Rieti. It was December 1944 and there was two feet of snow lying on the roads. There was no water for washing or the toilets, and we had to use pumps outside. I became ill with a head cold, and yet we had to bed down on a marble floor for a week. We could not understand why the heating system did not appear to be working, until it was discovered that "Jerry" had doctored the system and all the hot water was going straight into the sewers. On my return to Padua, I found that my name had been listed on the board, as Corporal.

After that, we went on to the Brenner Pass and into Austria, but by now the war was virtually over and we were sent to Trieste. It was still winter and in order to keep warm we went on forages, over the border into Yugoslavia, armed with chain saws to cut logs for the fire. Only the British could be sent to an Italian summer camp in the middle of winter!

We left Trieste on the 13th July 1945 for one month's leave, back in Britain. During the last week of this leave the war with Japan also came to an end, which helped to relieve pressures considerably. Afterwards, it was back to Trieste, on the 15 August to wait for the 4-year term of duty to expire. Previously troops had been sent home when 3 years 10 months had been completed, but this was changed just before my turn. I arrived back at Catterick at 12.00 noon on the 2nd. January 1946, 4 years to the day since I had left.

It was then a matter of rebuilding my family life and my butchering business. In the first instance I was able to rent half of a shop at 147 Nottingham Road, Alfreton. Mrs. Hitchin had run a confectioners shop for some years and was now approaching retirement, and so allowed me to have my butchers bench with refrigerator behind in the left hand part of the shop, whilst she carried on with her confectionery business in the other half. A somewhat cramped arrangement, which continued for a year or two, until she retired, when I was able to take over the whole of the shop. Rationing was still in force and life remained difficult for some years to come.

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