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This story has been submitted to the People’s War Website by Anne Wareing of the Lancashire Home Guard and has been added to the site with his permission…

My name is Hugh Griffiths, born in Chorley Lancs. 29th September 1925.
When the 2nd world war started I was 13 years of age, just a few weeks short of 14. I was then attending Chorley Grammar School and in common with all the other boys of my age I was very frustrated at the thought that the war would be over before I was able to join the forces. This proved not to be the case.

I had three brothers Owen (who was in the regular army, serving in Hong Kong in the Royal Corp. Signals) Fred and my twin brother Arthur.

One Saturday afternoon in 1943 Arthur and I decided to take the bus to Preston to volunteer for the army. I elected to go in the Scots Guards and Arthur wanted to serve in the tank regiment. Having done this we returned home and broke the news to my mother. I suppose it was not a very nice thing to have done. Soon after I went into the army and was posted initially to the guards depot at Caterham. Arthur went to Bovington in Dorset and was eventually posted to the 15/19 Kings Royal Hussars. After initial training at the depot I went to the training battalion and then was sent to the demonstration platoon at a battle school in Snowdonia.

Eventually I went to North West Europe as part of the second army. The initial experiences of action were unpleasant and in the main very confused. I will therefore list incidences during the campaign as I remember them.

I was a member of X company of the Scots Guards attached to the first battalion Welsh Guards. We were serving in the guards armoured division which consisted of equal numbers of infantry battalions and tank battalions. Guards armoured division led the push towards Brussels and were the first troops into the city. Later we were involved in the race to relieve the first airborne division at Arnhem. Unfortunately we were not able to reach them in time because of the concentration of enemy resistance between our advance and Arnhem.

After Arnhem the war settled down and things became static probably both sides were exhausted and winter was approaching. In November 1944 my battalion was ordered up into the line near the place called Venraij to relieve the battalion of the Kings Shropshire Light Infantry. They advised us not to show ourselves during the day because of the proximity of the enemy position. Movement was restricted to the hours of darkness. Because of this the system was that each morning before daylight a party went to the rear to collect rations for the day. When it was my turn to take a part of that we went to a farmyard and into a barn. I saw a soldier in a black beret, which was worn by tank crews and noticed that his cap badge was that of my twin brother’s regiment. I asked him if he knew Arthur Griffiths and he pointed and said, ‘He’s in that tank over there.’ I went over and we could not believe out of all the thousands serving in Europe, twin brothers had met. We had a quick chat and then I had to leave him. When I told my platoon commander what had happened he told me to risk the oncoming daylight and go and spend a day with my brother. It was wonderful and when the time came to leave, I said that I would try and come back tomorrow. He said that they were moving out the next day because they were going to shell America!! I said I thought they were on our side, but he told me there was a village down the road by that name and it was spelt with a K.

I remember doing a night attack at a place called Hassum in Germany. As soon as we had taken position we immediately dug our two- man slit trench because we knew that a counter attack would be launched, accompanied by the customary shelling and mortar. We had just completed our trench when the platoon commander came and said that it was a good position for him to command the platoon and would we mind moving over a few yards and digging another one! We of course did this grudgingly and before we had completed the digging of the second one the shelling and motaring began. We took what cover we could with part of our bodies sticking out of the top and then heard an explosion very close by. When we got out of the trench we saw that a mortar bomb had landed in the trench we had previously dug and blown off the legs of our platoon commander.

The advance continued and we had several unpleasant actions and battles, which have not found there way into the history books.

I was by this time in the 2nd battalion Scots Guards.

On the 25th April 1945 we moved into a town called Zeven. At the orders group that evening the commanding officer told us that next morning at first light we were to advance up the road and take possession of the large wood and the village beyond.
This village I now know to be Badenstedt, although I did not know that at the time. The CO then read out the order of advance. My company was to lead, as was my platoon. Later the platoon commander gave orders that my section was to lead and since I was section commander this meant I was to be the first man up the road next morning. It made me think a bit, but I had a good nights sleep. When we set off, I could see this long straight road in front of me with absolutely no cover. The future for me was therefore not rosy; suddenly I felt a blow and a sharp pain in my chest and went into the ditch. The platoon moved on, but then the advance was held up so I lay in the ditch bleeding for about an hour and a half with a shell dressing pressed to my wound to stem the bleeding. Eventually I heard a jeep coming up the road, somebody said there’s one here and I was taken back to the regimental aid post. I then went to the casualty clearing station, before being put in an ambulance to go to the hospital in the rear. After a few miles the ambulance shuddered to a halt and the driver came round to say that he could not get the engine re-started and had sent a message by motorcyclist for a replacement ambulance. In the meantime we were to be placed on the grass verge. This was done and I saw we were right outside the main gate of Belsen Concentration Camp. There were still many inmates in the camp and in particular I saw a man with his hand on the barbwire looking down at me. There was absolutely no emotion on his face, as though he was completely dead inside. I eventually went to hospital in Celle, where a German nurse treated me. I was then flown back to the UK and on VE Day I was in a hospital bed in Newport Monmouth. We had a quiet day.

Eventually I recovered fully and was posted back to my battalion in Germany. Whilst there, I was selected to take part in an exchange scheme with the American Army. I was sent to the US First Infantry division in Nuremburg. The war crimes trials were being held and on our days off we were allowed to go in the visitors gallery. I remember looking down and seeing all the Nazi war leaders in the dock — Goering, Ribbentrop, Hess and all the rest of the Nazi leaders. I felt a great satisfaction in seeing them there and my mind immediately went back to the poor man I had seen in Belsen. In a way I felt I was getting some sort of revenge, even though I was only a young boy, I was aware that history was being made.

So far as war is concerned the fighting was a terrfying experience. Now it seems a privilege, to have been there.

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