大象传媒

My name is William Morris, my childhood and early years were spent in the mining town of Treharris, South Wales. At the bottom of Webster Street where I lived was the Deep Navigation Colliery and at the top of our street was the Salvation Army Hall. I joined the Royal Navy during the war and served for a time with Combined Operations in preparation for the Normandy Landing. A few days before the invasion I joined a crew of a converted Thames Barge which was loaded with high octane petrol, bound for the Normandy Beaches. The barge was moored at Itchenor, which is part of the Chichester Harbour. In the early hours of 6 June 1944 we set off from our mooring with an armada of small landing craft. We were directed to Gold Beach at Arromanches, close to the proposed siting of the Mulberry Harbour. I am unsure of the actual date but some time later we were caught in a severe storm and it became necessary to abandon the vessel. We were taken to a survivor's camp run by the Royal Marines, at a field close to the ruins of the village of Arromanches. The barge was recovered with the cargo of fuel intact. Much of our time in those days was spent in clearing the beaches in preparation for the Mulberry Harbour.

One day I listened to the shouting of some soldiers disembarking from a Landing Ship Infantry and the accents sounded all too familiar to my ears. They were Welsh and to my ears they came from the mining valleys ! As they moved up the beach I recognised someone from Treharris... I thought I was dreaming as they passed the word back to the Landing Craft. "Tell Fred his brother Bill is up here on the beach!" Fred came running as fast as he could, closely followed by Sergeant Willie O'Neill, who happened to live across the street from us in Webster Street. We stood there staring at each other for ages trying to accept this improbable meeting and were surrounded by others from Treharris.

The Morris tribe were seven children that had survived infancy, my mother having given birth to a total of thirteen. Two girls, Evelyn and Olwen and five boys, Tom, Fred, Ivor, Bill and Glyn. The mining towns of South Wales had endured the full force of the Depression and General Strike of the 1920s and 1930s.

Four of us boys played brass instruments in the Salvation Army Band, namely Fred, Ivor, Bill and Glyn. A little further up the road was the Territorial Hall that offered two weeks holiday, under canvas, to any boys who joined the Unit of the Territorial Army. Many did join along with Fred and Tom, (Tom being the eldest boy of the family).

They were all called up in 1939 and some served with the 5th Welch Regiment. Later on Tom returned to work in the coalmine. Fred's talent on the trombone was soon recognised and he became a member of the 5th Welch Regimental Band. Part of his duties when on active service meant that he was a medical orderly and stretcher bearer. Fred was 23 years of age and I was 19 years of age at our momentous meeting in Normandy. I don't know how long we stood there but at last an officer of the regiment came up to us with a friendly smile and said, "There is a war going on up the road and we should move on".

It was well known that there was strong resistance at Caen from the Germans and that is where the Regiment were heading. Within a few days I received a letter that Fred had returned to a hospital in England with multiple shrapnel wounds and that Willie O'Neill had been killed in action.

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