大象传媒

Chapter X - The Scarlet Pimpernel
We eventually take up positions again overlooking another town or village which was about 1/2 a mile away immediately to our front, its church tower threateningly overlooking our positions, this could be a thorn in the side for any future activities, that was why no doubt, a 25pounder artillery gun was brought forward just to our rear, and with open sights, put an end to any more bell ringing for a few Sundays to come. Our Fox hole was dominated by a solitary stem of what was once a bush, until a shell stripped it of its foliage, and in the evenings this became the gathering post for millions of gnats where they would perform their knees up before devouring their meal at our expense.
During the course of my duty I had to nip out to retrieve a piece of equipment from our vehicle, which I was to find hidden among the surrounding rubble and there I found Dad in the open by the side of our vehicle, shells exploding dangerously close, pumping feverishly at the primus preparing a meal for us. (It was the likes of him who deserved a medal, but it were the likes of him that got nowt). On returning to my Fox hole I had to smile, I thought I was returning to a Harem, because each individual of the Section had his head covered with his own personnel camouflage net with his tin hat on top. This was not to hide them from the enemy but the Gnats evening 'Scoff'. It wasn't long before we were to lose their company though, because after one particular bout of shelling they all disappeared along with their gathering post, but thank God we survived. Not so lucky some of the Coldstream, who were advancing in open order with the aid of a creeping artillery barrage across the open country to our right to take the town, when one of our own shells dropped short (reminded me of the Salisbury Plain episode) but this one was to drop among them, and we were to witness several fall to the ground, fortunately the remainder were to be successful in their mission.
We hadn't yet fulfilled all of our commitments, for soon afterwards we had to return to our vehicles in pursuance. It wasn't to be long before we were to meet strong resistance. The hedgerows which must have been 15 to 20ft thick were hiding a large contingent of Hitler youth, those that were stubbornly refusing to get on Parade were given a very hot reception, after all, this behaviour is unbecoming to a Grenadier, so they had to be vigorously persuaded in a language that they could not only understand, but that which must be obeyed. Firing from the hip and from our vehicles, we patrolled up and down these thickets persuading them to surrender, those that my Section captured were disarmed and whilst I covered them with my Sten I ordered them to be searched for hidden weapons such as knives which were invariably found hidden in the tops of their boots.I then sent them back towards our rear, where the following up troops would have the manpower to provide escorts. Unlike a King's Company man who I noticed was escorting a party of about 50 whom they had flushed out, and on his insistence were running because he was speaking in a language that they could understand by firing into the ground behind them, (though naughty, naughty), I imagine was breaking the rules of the Geneva Convention?
There were still a hard core of the indoctrinated still in the hedgerow refusing to surrender and two of our 2nd Battalion tanks came forward and persuaded them to come out by firing point blank with their heavy guns. Those not killed were severely wounded but their patriotic allegiance was still to Hitler, and told us so. Those that refused any help to ease their suffering or to treat them in anyway, we granted them their wish and carried on with the advance.
A little further on we again dismount from our vehicles and advance forward on foot, eventually taking up a defensive position by digging in. Close by, one of our tanks with its turret hatch closed, and to our astonishment, a German was tapping on the side trying to attract the attention of the occupants but wasn't getting any response, so one of our Platoon rushed over and brought him in, he was a conscripted Pole who was trying to surrender. We were to capture quite a number who stayed behind when their units retreated and they were able to give valuable information about the strength, morale, etc. of the units we were confronting.
Our Platoon officer Mr McEwan was inquisitive about a small cottage standing on its own to our right, so he took a couple of men with him to investigate and on return with three prisoners, he said, that when they were getting close they heard German voices, so they charged in and the prisoners screamed with fright, which scared him a little because it might have alerted any others who might have been in the vicinity. He said that there were two dead and one wounded on the floor and they happened to be stretcher bearers left behind when their forward troops retreated in a hurry without informing them. They also left behind a 3inch Mortar plus ammunition.
It was now getting dusk, our tank had retired well to our rear for the night and we have been warned of a possible counterattack, so would be specially alert for enemy night patrols. I don't recall when I last slept, besides, that is the last thing you think of if the alternative is waking up with your throat cut. Even so, I still had to reprimand one of my chaps for leaving the trench during the night without permission, he said that he went to search the pockets of a dead German close by. Thank goodness the majority of the men would never have been so callous. (Perhaps 'he' being the chappie whose hair I cut at Lee-on- Solent gave him the impression that I was).
In the morning we were on the move again and leaving our vehicles behind, we creep cautiously on foot through the next village, with one of our 2nd Batt: tanks leading the way, with my Section walking in a crouch position close to the left of it and my mates Section No 5 on the right. I don't know whether the protection of a tank is an advantage in an operation such as this, because first it advertises your presence, and is also apt to attract the anti-tank guns, anyway we pass through safely until we reach the outskirts where the tank then left us, whilst we carried on forward on foot. All of a sudden the area we were in was being absolutely plastered by shell fire, the ferocity of it didn't give us time to gather our equipment from our vehicles to dig in, it was terrifying, and we were literally scraping the ground with our spoons in trying to get our bodies a little lower in the ground. It's surprising the stupid things you do in critical situations such as this, but the shelling was too intense to move or look for alternative cover and this seemed to go on for an half hour, but I don't suppose it was more than a quarter, how we survived without casualties seemed a miracle. The irony of it was, that we were being shelled by our own 25 Pounders. I fail to see why the Germans nicknamed them 'The Silent Death,' I can assure you that we were not so complimentary.. Apparently it was the tank commander, who on seeing our plight, radioed back to stop the firing, so take back all that I said about their usefulness. Our artillery were not aware that we had taken the area.
At first I thought I had lost one of my Section, 'Speedy Hearne' so called because he was anything like, but I hasten to add, like all of the others in the Section, were the salt of the earth. He eventually returned and I asked him where and what he had been doing. He stared for a second or two, then after it had registered he said in his slow drawl, 'I just took up position with my Spigot' (anti tank weapon). But I said, where were you during the shelling, and he said 'Out there in the open only about 3 or 4yds away, then as an afterthought in his slow nonchalant way, said, 'They were close weren't they'. We had to laugh.
An 'O' group has been called by the Company Commander Captain Stanley,. 'Here we go again'. A Tiger tank to our right was holding up the advance and No17 Platoon (our platoon ) was to go and put it out of action. All reports show that there were no enemy occupying the high ground immediately to our front. After making sure that we had got everything needed, grenades primed etc., etc., we set off with my Section leading (again), we go down through a small copse to our front, then out into an open valley. A lovely sunny day and uncanningly quiet with the exception of shell fire some distance to our right. Mr McEwan gave the order to advance in extended order and we had gone about 500yds across the valley and were about half way up the side of a hill when a slight movement caught my eye. The movement I saw was the raising of a slate blue arm into a firing position from behind a solitary tree on the hill top, and at the same time there was a burst of automatic gun fire. I shouted 'Down' and directed fire.
'Tree 12 o'clock at base fire'. After returning fire the order was given to advance. The nearer we got to the top, the steeper and more precarious it became, because it was practically impossible to stand up without slipping back on loose slates. By this time every conceivable light arms had opened up on us, so bullets were splattering along the ground all around us. So much for the report that there were no enemy up here, therefore we must have some very angry friends. My Bren gunner Dave Kimpton, a very quiet and reliable lad, crawled to the top of the ridge and the next thing a hand grenade segmentated like our own Mills but larger, rolled down close to me. Knowing the different fuse delays and therefore not yet ready to meet my Maker, I immediately squirmed away on my stomach for about 2or 3yds when it exploded. I got a dong on my steel helmet which I should imagine was a stone thrown out by the blast. (Theoretically, they say that you stand a good chance of getting away with it if you keep low). I didn't give them a second chance because I returned the compliment by throwing back a 77grenade which bursts on hitting anything throwing out phosphorus which would severely burn whatever it contacted. The Platoon officer who was over on my left flank, engaging the enemy with his Sten, shouted No 4 Section Right Flanking. (You've guessed it). Yes we were No 4, so I called my Section together. My Bren gunner Dave, no doubt being in the precarious position we were in, momentarily forgot his Field training, and instead of crawling back from his position, started to get up and was subsequently mortally wounded with a burst from an automatic. Gathering together my remaining 6 men for this suicidal mission, a task I certainly didn't relish but orders were orders, we proceeded to go around the right hand side of the hill where we were to be supported by the other two Sections to give us covering fire, whilst we attacked over the top, but had only gone about 20yds and was contemplating my next move against this force of unknown quantity, when a runner sent by the Company Commander, came panting up and said. 'You have all to get back out of it as quickly as possible'. Well you don't need that in writing in situations like this, after all, the element of surprise on which the success of this mission depended was lost as soon as we were observed. Unaware at the time due to the amount of S--t flying at us from all directions not only from the front and flanks, but bullets were now whistling past our ears from our rear and that was not the only thing emerging from our rear as we endeavoured to withdraw from our predicament. The cause of this rear guard action was as we were to learn later, through the initative of Baggy Day a reservist policeman friend from my own home town of Oxford who on seeing our plight had apparently on his own initartive obtained -thank goodness from some unknown source a heavy Vickers machine gun which he had mounted on a tripod and was keeping the enemies square heads down by firing over ours whilst we made our escape. Many a time after the war we would reminisce in the centre of Oxford where on returning he retained his position in the Police.
We ran back, but about half way I had one of my stubborn moods and I started to stroll, the bullets were swhishing past and the tank by this time didn't want to be left out and was also spitting out its pennyworth, but I thought to myself, if you hit me you hit me. Don't think I was being brave, because I was petrified, but at that moment, I thought, 'Up Yer'. I could imagine the square heads on the top of the hill, tearing out their crew cut hair, screaming 'You English Swinehuns' or words to that effect. Surprisingly we only suffered about a half a dozen casualties including the Platoon officer who to everyone's surprise didn't return with us. The Section nearest to him said that he had moved to a position out of their sight, and unknowingly to them had apparently been wounded in the head and was subsequently left behind and captured. (He was to return apres le guerre).

We move off again to our next objective. (I repeat how much longer can your luck last out). Travelling cautiously along the road under extremely heavy shelling, six or seven tanks were burning furiously to our right, but there was one that had a hole straight through the turret and out the other side. That was the only one that I was to see that didn't go up in flames after being hit.
After abandoning our vehicles and due to the heavy shelling, we had to lay in the gutter close to the kerb for our only protection for what seemed like hours.It was then that I noticed Sgt Mason being treated by a stretcher bearer for what seemed to be a minor shrapnel wound as he didn't bear that usual grey pallor of someone seriously injured and he gave me a smile and a thumbs up as he was being carried away. It was the next day that we were to learn that he didn't make it God Bless. Eventually we had orders to move forward and advance on foot to a village where we were expecting to meet resistance, whether this fitted in within the planned strategy I know not, as far as we were concerned it was enemy occupied territory therefore subject for liberation. Crossing a field on the outskirts, we are in extended order, with all eyes darting from left to right looking for any unexpected movement, which more than likely would be greeted with a burst from a Sten or Bren, even animals have suffered their fate through not being more discreet. Suddenly from out of a shelter a civilian head pops up followed by another 8 or 9, if only they realised how close they were to eternity. They were extremely delighted to see us. I said 'Alemande Soldat ici', and they said 'Non, non parti' waving their arms in a sweeping away movement, anyway we had to make sure, and we took up positions in one of the trenches that had already been dug, (by the enemy perhaps). Then one of my men brought over a male civilian whom he found wandering close by, this was after I had satisfied myself to the residential legality of the first batch who had returned to their homes close by. In my very limited French, I interpreted his explanation, that he was the mayor and his maison (house) was the one he pointed at but although I was rather suspicious of him, I stupidly let him go. On checking him out with the residents they said that they didn't have a Mayor so I accepted their hospitality of a glass of Plonk and returned to look for the Scarlet Pimpernel, without success. After consolidating our position and the shelling having by now eased off a bit, I was nosing around when I could hear cheering, and on investigating I came across a group of Irish Guards who were cheering on one of their mates who was racing down the road on a motor cycle wearing a Gendarme's hat. It was obvious that he hadn't ridden one before because he was wobbling all over the road and with his feet in the air he careered straight through a hedge into a field where he fell off. A hatless Gendarme was also trying to see the funny side, but his face soon changed to a look of resignation when another group of potential rally stars rushed to test their skills at his expense.
This light-hearted revelry soon came to an end when shelling of this area became very intensive indeed. We were making our already dug trench more habitual and whilst doing so, each of the Section remarked about a intermittent bleep bleep every few seconds. It was suggested that our mystery man may have planted a signalling device in the trench, but after a thorough search nothing was found. It was then suggested it could be emitting from another already dug trench about 30ft away, so taking another man with me, we cautiously approached in the event of it being occupied. It wasn't, and after searching without success the bleeps still continued. This was and still is a complete mystery.

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