大象传媒

My Father ex Sgt George Sands MM, 5th battalion Queens Own Cameron Highlanders, passed away 18th June 2005, in his 89th year. In May of 2005 I accompanied him to Holland for their commemoration and Liberation celebrations. Some Dutch friends transported us to various battle sites and Military cemetaries. The following is the story of the battle of Schijndel, Holland on October 23rd 1944, 3rd anniversary of Alamein day. On previous journeys I had witnessed my Father suffer a recurring nightmare. On this particular journey I was to witness something new, and very sad.

This is my Fathers memory of his part in the battle for Schijndel;

As soon as "A" and "B" companies crossed the start line and hit open ground they were hit with intense defensive fire, mainly from Spandau machine guns, and sustained heavy casualties, only a depleted "B" company reached its objective.

"A" company had lost their company commander wounded, and were nearly wiped out. We in "D" company were launched round "B" company鈥檚 flank in an attempt to gain "A" company鈥檚 objective.

Again, as soon as we were in the open, the Spandau鈥檚 opened up on us. The two guys either side of me were both hit. The one on my immediate left was killed instantly as Spandau bullets ripped into him. He was hit and ripped open diagonally across his body from shoulder to opposing hip. It was if his body had been unzipped.

I managed to lie flat to the ground in a furrow on the edge of the field we were in, wishing it were a lot deeper. Machine gun bullets and tracer just whistling over my head, I was powerless to do anything. I laid like that for most of the night, listening to the screams and moans of the wounded and dying.

I managed to inch my way toward the Spandau, which was firing on fixed lines, down the shallow depression I was in, with bullets whistling just over my head. I passed the body of our dead Lieutenant and the body of our company commander Major A. N. Parker. There were at least twenty dead Camerons lying in that field. It made me all the more determined to get to the Jerry responsible. I eventually made my way round the back of his position and could see he was a German Parachutist. He was, I guess, about five feet six tall. I finally got into a position where I could get to him. I launched myself at him and hit him full in the face with all the force I could muster with a right fist. I was on top of him. I began punching him, kicking him, I was strangling him. I hit him in the face with the rifle butt, God help me I wanted to kill him with my bare hands. Lucky for him, the Adjutant, Captain Lamb pulled me off him, but even as he was being carried away I tried to shoot him. The C.O. took me to one side to calm me down, I was screaming at him, "look at all my mates dead, Major Parker, all the boys. I still sometimes cannot understand why I was not allowed to finish the Jerry off. Major Parker had been a good commander and friend and a very brave man.

Next day, as a result of the heavy casualties and lack of numbers, "D" company was disbanded in order to reinforce "A" and "B" companies. The attack continued and our blood was up as a result of what had happened. We were so quick with our advance that the tanks could not keep up with us. We finally took all our objectives by early evening and we settled in some pinewoods just west of Schijndel. We had lost eight officers and sixty - three other ranks, of whom a high proportion were, as usual, N.C.Os.

His last Nightmare;-

Our Dutch friends had driven us to various Cameron battle grounds and taken us to visit various War cemeteries.

Having visited the Reischwald cemetery and seen various Cameron graves with familiar names known to Dad, we headed back to Holland from Germany.

En route we stopped at the cemetery in Uden and came across several Camerons, all of whom were killed 23rd October 1944 at the battle for Schinjdel. Among them was Major Nigel Parker, dads company commander. Dad saluted his grave and muttered 鈥渢hat鈥檚 put that to bed鈥�. Tears in his eyes I supported him as we walked and he spoke of his 鈥渉orrible death鈥�. We shared tears and finally regained our composure.

That night in our hotel room he began to murmur in his fitful sleep. Then the shouts began 鈥淪arge don鈥檛 leave me Sarge鈥� a nightmare I had heard before. Relating to 6 鈥渙f his boys鈥� aged between 18 and 21. Killed by our own shells. Then the nightmare changed into something I had not heard before.

鈥淏oss, Boss, stay down don鈥檛 move, Boss鈥� then he woke and began to cry. We each sat on the edge of our beds facing and we held hands, both of us crying. He began to tell me how he had carried the guilt of not being the one to die. They had the habit of taking turns to lead the men into battle, Dad said 鈥渋t was my turn, but the Major insisted he lead鈥�. 鈥淚t should have been me鈥�.

I tried to reassure him it was not his fault, following orders.

He told me that the major had lumps shot out of him from machine gun fire. He began to sob, reducing me to tears as well.

鈥淗e got up 3 times trying to take care of us鈥�. He had been hit 7 times.

Dad finally calmed and went back to a restless sleep.

Richard Sands

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