大象传媒

Don鈥檛 do what I do, as I say:
I volunteered for national service as a Sapper in the Royal Engineers on the 20th May 1943 and did my six weeks service at Preston. After various courses at Longmore Training Camp for Royal Engineers. I had various moves until posted to Norfolk and onto Harwich, sailing for Normandy in a troop carrier. On D4, a few miles off the French coast, we scrambled down nets to board an L.C.T and then onwards to the beach at GRAYE SUR MER. Before we reached shallow waters our O.C instructed the matloe i.c LCT to lower the ramp. The matlow replied that we were still in deep water and would have to wait until he knew our safe depth. Our O.C. couldn鈥檛 wait and repeated his command, but the matlow still refused. On closing the beach he was again commanded to lower the ramp and this time he obeyed the order. by then we were in about six/seven feet and when the O.C. stepped off the ramp he went into water too shallow to keep his body above the waves. If it were not for the speed and experience of another matlow with a twenty foot hooked pole we would be without our O.C. He was none too pleased with his ducking and the other officer (a Lt) in charge of us in another LCT and the senior officer were not on speaking terms for a few days after the event. A most embarrassing situation for all.

The young fighting the young:
On a more sombre note after we cleared the beachhead we sheltered in a trench position to way up our next move only to be informed by the beach Marshall that we should lay low until further instructed as Naval guns were put up a significant bombardment inland and towards Caen. A softening up event, prior to the two-day air raid on Caen proper.
We lay into the trench just off the beach only to find several dead German soldiers just the other side of the hedge. To our horror we found that a few were boy soldiers who could not have been more than fifteen or sixteen years old together with much older men who were fifty or sixty. As engineers trained in mines and booby traps we noticed that the younger lads were well booby- trapped and even had wristwatches showing to temp unsuspecting greedy enemy soldiers. Our first unpleasant encounter with Hitler Youth and the desperate state the Germans found themselves.

Just desserts:
Another sad story relates to POW鈥檚 working with my unit on the cliff top to the west of Arromanche, after a few days work they were taken aboard a Hospital ship which was lying off shore just west of the Mulbery Harbour. The German soldiers were very pleased with their fate (so they told us) and did not mind leaving French soil and looked forward to seeing England and to enjoy some good food which they had not received for some time, other than that we had given them.
Sad to say they did not make England as their ship struck a sea mine and all hands and prisoners were lost , so we were led to believe. More to the point several nurses were washed ashore naked and dead. A sad sight for those of us who attended to them.

Lady Louise Mountbatten versus the Redcaps:
Another happening for our small unit stationed at the cliff top camp above Mulberry Harbour was a surprise visit by The Commandant of the Red Cross, i.e. Lady Louise Mountbatten. She came into our waterlogged camp in a Jeep followed by an escort Jeep, both of which became stuck in the mud. The driver of her vehicle and the escort Jeep were (of course) 鈥渙ur best friends鈥�- the Redcaps. Imagine our joy when requested to expedite them out of the mud. Using a small D10 bulldozer we pulled her Ladyship鈥檚 Jeep out of the mess and pretended not to hear the other Redcaps cry for assistance as they were still stuck in the mud. Shining black army boots and mud do not gel, but we did what was necessary more to please our esteemed visitor who was pleased to have had a superb view of the entire Mulberry Harbour and the town of Arromanche. Lady Mountbatten did of course thank us for our efforts but declined our offer of tea and biscuits.

Just desserts:
Another tale some weeks later, we came into a small village and entered the grounds of 鈥楥hateau Bussey鈥�, which the Germans had just evacuated only to find two extremely large wine vats (probably over 2000 gallons a piece). As the wine in the barrels was undoubtedly poisoned we had no other course than to riddle the barrels using our Bren Gun and the yard soon became a quagmire. Our Lt in charge ordered us not to enter the sheds which had an upper story which was full of German uniforms, boots, badges etc, until we had carried out our usual booby trap search. All appeared safe as did the bungalow. On the facing wall inside was a large drawing of Winston Churchill artistically painted with the words- 鈥淭HIS IS THE ENEMY, KILL HIM ON SIGHT鈥�. As soon as we took up 鈥渞esidence鈥� our officer ordered that we dig a slit trench opposite the road entrance in order to attack any stray German soldiers who might try to regain their lines, which were about a mile up the said road.
We duly dug the trench which quickly filled up with the wine that was by then flooding the yard. Before we could set up our Bren Gun, a rather large cow fell into the slit trench. What a to-do. The friendly French farmer ceased to be so. How to get this animal out was to prove an engineering task and we were engineers. Bearing in mind that we were in the throws of possibly engaging the enemy. Two canvas slings were worked under the beast and with quite a few men pulling we managed to release the cow. What the farmer was trying to say was not comprehendible or printable, he did not sound grateful in the least. This moment in time a tank was approaching down the road and we were ordered to open fire when and if the turret hatch was opened which it did not. All was smoothed out when a flag held by a following soldier indicated that this was a British Tank. Was the Lt鈥檚 face red and we rather relieved.

Yankee Stevadors versus Suffolk Farmers:
Moving along to Belgium, which was our next assignment we set up a very large depot in which we were held everything from hand tools to cranes and bulldozers. These were of course on standby for use for any units further along the lines.
We were mostly billeted in large wooden huts near the depot. We soon became friendly with the local folk in Ekeron a small village some four miles from Antwerp toward the Dutch boarder. This story is about a gentleman who was used by the German local High Command as an interpreter as he spoke several languages fluently. What they did not know was the fact that he was a Yorkshire man from Keithley and his brother was a British Army Brigadier. I became good friends with the Claas family and enjoyed their company also that of his good friend who was in fact the local contact with London through his two way radio he kept in access up the lounge chimney, even after several searches the Germans never found the equipment which had been instrumental in receiving and sending some very important messages sent between England and Belgium.
A sad day for our company at Ekeron was when about two thousand American dock workers moved in Luckbowl Barracks some half mile from our billets, when they could not take over the Belgium young ladies who we had befriended, they used various tactic鈥檚 including knocking one of our despatch riders from his motor bike which resulted in him loosing a leg. Naturally there was a serious enquiry which cumulated in the whole regiment ordered to parade in FULL battle dress in the summer heat, until the driver of the truck owned up to his crime. Apart from Water the Colonel ordered that they stood their ground until the culprit owned up. It took four hours before he was named by some of his comrades. The outcome of this saga was that he was court martialled, dismissed the army and given two years hard labour and sent back to the states. After this incident we had very little trouble with the Yanks.

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