大象传媒

One statistic I have not heard mentioned in the Diaries is that there was a huge number of Doodle-bugs shot down over the south coast and over the hop-fields of Kent. I was posted to Infantry Troop Workshop REME,at the time under canvas with our trucks near Goudhurst awaiting orders.To be more precise, we slept in slit-trenches underneath our day-time workbenches under canvas / tarpaulin lean-to's. We had our first casualty there,among the hop-fields, killed by 22 mm cannon fire. The area around us as far as Cranbrook was designated 'killing ground' for the 'Bugs and I can assure you that they came thick and fast -as many as ten brought down in a single hour.The only weapon we had was a tripod-mounted Bren-gun which was manned whenever 'Bugs appeared, coming low over the hill-side to the south of us.We had to be careful as Spitfires or Hurricanes could also come in to attack the 'bugs. The Spit pilots soon learnt the trick of flying parallel with them and bring their wing-tip under the 'bug's wing-tip and tipping them over which sent the 'bug crashing down to explode - hopefully in some empty patch of Kent.
Early one morning..."just as the sun was shining" we got our orders to move south. At Southampton we reversed our trucks down the ramp into the LCT [Landing Craft Tanks] and set off for France. After an uneventful crossing [this was not D-day]the ramps went down off the beach at low tide off Arromanches and we came ashore in half a metre of water, over to the left the half-sunk remains of ships. The first duty was to de-waterproof the vehicles to prevent over-heating and to avoid the"Achtung Minen" signs which dotted the hedgerows and verges.My first impression was that things were very crowded.That night on guard duty I could clearly hear small-arms fire nearby
- things were very tight.Water was virtually unobtainable as the wells were poisoned.Jock Muir was our watercarrier and each day he would set off in his 15cwt water-bowser in search of reliable aqua. Often not returning before evening. There was, of course, cider....
So we acted as Mr Fixit for the various units of 30 Corps -whoever was in the line at the time;gathering the wrecks from the battlefield to repair -anything from wrist and pocket-watches, gun-sights, tank telescopes to 35 pounder artillery, trucks of every kind but no tanks- 'we did not do tanks'Our 'sleeping arrangements' varied; in the Normandy bocage, under canvas among the cider-appletrees - where one morning I woke to find a fist-sized chunk of shrapnel half-way through the fabric immediately above my bare head - to sleep in ditches, on bare factory floors, in kind Dutch households [Vaalkensward]in commandeered German dwellings, plenty of variety. I was the sole Typex Cipher bod in the Unit, however it was not until back in Britain afterwards that my services were required in the subterranean War Office in Whitehall and across Eastern Command [Colchester/ Mill Hill] Here in Normandy and right through Holland, Belgium and into Germany I was "given other things to do". In April of '45 we were encamped somewhere south of Hanover and I was one of a small group being sent to some camp called Bergen-Belsen to "do what we could". The story of Belsen and its horrors has been told many times.Officially, cameras or diaries were not allowed but no-one took much notice. We split up, one [Keyhoe] going down to the left where we could see smoke from the burning huts; Jock and I going on past where the mass-graves were being dug, filled high with skeletal shapes with lttle resemblance to human-beings.In all, at that time, one huge grave had been filled and covered with earth, a second was being filled with bodies or the remains of bodies and a third being dug by an enormous Army tractor-shovel.To the right of us was the perimeter fence labelled "Typhus", we found the entrance to hutments occupied by survivors. These were relatively recent inmates,shaven-headed,former forced-labour workers who had suffered some illness or other - in some cases frostbite from the previous winter's work in the ruins of Hamburg.Outside the hutments moved solitary, blanket-shrouded,silent,spectral figures; slowly, ever so slowly they moved- fragile forms at the very edge of life - these people we did not approach - what could we have said to them that had suffered so much? We four saw much but did little apart from listen to those who were surviving -just. My scant German perhaps helped though most of those I spoke to were Hungarian.Enough passed between us for me understand, at least in some degree, the cruel and precarious position they had been in. That is another story.
For me and my comrades VE day was spent at an empty, deserted Pantzertroop barracks at Fallingbostel living in much too close company with two thousand Russian -so-called 'military' [at least they all seemed armed].The 'celebrations' consisted of the Russians firing off Very flares and almost anything that went 'Bang' - such incendiaries that fell on our canvas-topped vehicles being hastily doused. So much for VEday!

漏 Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.