大象传媒

In the West Country.

I had a week's leave from Cowley and when I got back one of my mates said,
"Here, Ken, we're off to some other place now. I'm blowed if I know where it is.
Have you ever heard of it?"
"Well where's that then?" I asked.
"Clevedon," he said.
"Oh, that's a bit of all right then, isn't it?" I replied.
"Why?" he asked.
"Well, that isn't very far from our place," I told him.

So we went down to Clevedon and I was chosen to go on Regimental Guard. This was in a big house not very far from where some friends of ours lived who had once lived in Dyers Lane. So, of course, when I knew I was going to be off duty, Ilene came down weekends to see me. Sometimes I'd be on the changing of the guard and she'd be down the bottom of the road watching. Then I could go around Mr. and Mrs. Amos' for a meal.

We were at Clevedon for a while and then we were moved to a Bofor gun site at Portishead, overlooking Battery Point.

After Portishead, we were stationed on the aerodrome at Yate, again on the Bofor guns. I had my bike to get home on. I was allowed to visit but I wasn't allowed to stay there - I had to get back. I remember one night going home on my bike and I had a terrible cold. My mother said to me, 'You ain't going to go back like this!' as if I was just working somewhere. But I was in the Army, so I had to go back! Sometimes some of the chaps would come up our place. My mate, Granpy, came up there on one occasion. He was a chap from Bude I was friendly with. He used to get a bit irresponsible when he got on the drink and I was forever getting him out of scrapes even though he was older than me.

We were only at Yate for a fortnight and when we left we went back to Portishead. While there, one of our officers, a nice chap, was killed in an accident on his motor bike. His funeral was in Hereford and I was chosen as one of the guard of honour.

In December 1941, I went on a dive-bombing course on the aerodrome at Northolt. At this time, our regimental headquarters were at Dean Lodge, Iron Acton, and the three of us that were going to go on the course were sent there to spend the night before going on to Northolt. I managed to get a sleeping-out pass, on the promise that I would return in the morning!

On another occasion, I was at Filton for several months, on the Patchway bypass. While I was there, I had my photo taken next to a WVS (Women's Voluntary Service) van that had been presented by Woman's Illustrated.

It was at Filton that they put Gerry Mason and myself, we were only gunners then, in for a 'layer' badge. This was about knowledge of ack-ack work, the Bofor gun especially. We went in one by one and there were three officers who all fired questions at us. It caused a bit of jealousy around because mainly sergeants went in for these tests and Gerry and I were just non-stripes. We passed and they failed! We were given a layer's badge to put around the wrist of our jackets - it was like a laurel leaf with an 'L' on it. We were forever after being mistaken for sergeant majors as it looked very much like their badge.

I also went to firing camps at Watchet and St. Agnes. A firing camp was where you went to practise firing the guns. What happened was, an aeroplane would come along with a long rope or wire with a sleeve on the back. You had to fire at the sleeve. It was right up on the edge of the cliffs, so you could fire out to sea with no danger of hitting anything.

Moving around.

Another place we were stationed was at Fairlop, near Ilford, Essex, on an aerodrome. Then we were on an ammunition dump near Basingstoke - I was there twice.
On another occasion I was at the Parnell's factory at Tolworth, quite near Epsom racecourse. We were on top of the factory, on what was called a 'quad' Lewis. A Lewis gun is a machine gun and we had four of them linked together, all going off at once. Not that I had any occasion to fire them!

I was also billeted at Charfield, near the railway line. One night they decided they needed us for some reason. We didn't know why or where, but we were taken into Bristol, I think it was on a Sunday evening. We went down to Temple Meads and in the middle of the night we caught a train and finished up down in St. Erth, near Hayle, down in Cornwall. We were on Bofors again. We were in a big bell tent that looked a bit dodgy at the top as though it would let in the wet. My mate, Granpy, noticed that over opposite they had some chalets. Granpy said, "Let's go over and see if we can sleep in them for the night." So we went over and saw the lady there and she said, "Yes! Sure you can." But we were only there for a couple of days. We came back on a Sunday night, going past Rangeworthy chapel just as they were coming out. That was where my Dad used to go.

While I was at Charfield I had a sleeping-out pass. I used to come home on the bus at night and go back on the train in the morning because we weren't on active duty there - we had no guns.

On another occasion we went to Walton-on-Naze. That was for firing camp again. We were billeted in a posh convalescent home - it was a pity to put soldiers in it. It was named after its benefactor, Samuel Lewis.

Another place we were at one time for training was Lord Baden Powell's property at Gilwell Park, Chingford, Essex. It was where he used to hold his jamborees. We slept in the big house.

A baby daughter . . . but no teeth!

In June of '42, I was stationed on the Bofors down in Ford, Sussex. I took over a gun site down there from a Sergeant Emmett. He turned out to be George Emmett who played cricket for Gloucestershire. He used to open the batting and he played for England as well. He was a little man.

While I was at Ford, I was sent on an Aircraft Recognition course to White Waltham, in Berkshire, quite near Maidenhead. I tried to get out of this course because I was in the process of having a new set of false teeth made, having broken the others, I had been without my teeth for quite a few weeks. Also, my wife, Ilene, was expecting our first child. But my protests were to no avail. On route, I had my first experience of the London Underground, arriving at Victoria in the rush hour and having to get to Paddington. Actually, once I got to White Waltham, I found the course interesting and I quite liked it. I achieved a 90% 'A'. I had to identify planes from sections flashed on a screen for four seconds. Some were parts of German planes and some were English. To complicate matters, some planes were English with German markings, and vice versa. Of the 50 that were flashed up, I had 45 right. I even got congratulated in brigade orders for that! The course finished on the Friday, and on the Saturday morning, 4th July 1942, I had volunteered to give a lecture on the Bristol Bleinheim. I gave the lecture and as I sat down the orderly came up and said "Telegram for Gunner Prout!" It was a telegram from my mother saying, "Daughter arrived. All okay."

When I left White Waltham, I was told to report to Tangmere, down in Sussex. When I got there, they sent me on because the gun crew had moved to Thorny Island. The first thing I did was to apply for seven days compassionate leave to see mv wife and my new baby daughter, Kathleen.

When I had my telegram at home telling me where I had to report back to, I found I had to go back to White Waltham, as the whole troop had gone up there on a gunnery course. I still had no teeth to eat with!

From White Waltham, we moved on to Watchet, for firing camp again, then to Radlett, Hertfordshire, on the Handley Page works. That's where they made the Handley Page Halifax, one of the bombers used in the Dambusters raid. It was here, at the end of August 1942, that my teeth finally caught up with me! I'd been without them for over two months and had threatened to go sick every day until I got new ones! I'd had a full set of false teeth since I was 19, and I loved going on dental parade as there was never anything they had to do to me.

Two stripes.

My last posting in England was on the ack-ack defences of Fighter Command and Ack-ack Command at Bentley Priory, Stanmore, Middlesex. I'd been made a lance 'jack' by now, and at Stanmore I got my second stripe - first, in January 1943, as acting bombardier and then, in April 1943, as a bombardier proper.

The set-up on a gun-site was usually ten to twelve men with a sergeant or bombardier, a lance bombardier and a cook. During the daytime there were three men in the gun pit at all times spotting for enemy aircraft with binoculars. At night-time the other ranks, that was anyone who didn't have stripes, did two hours guard duty. The bombardier usually made out the guard roster and any nights out you had during the week. Sometimes the cooking was good and sometimes it was horrible. It was very often best when there wasn't a recognised cook on the site and somebody else did it! The WVS visited most gun sites about once a week with cigarettes, chocolates, sweets, cakes and a cup of tea. They were always welcome. I had leave from Stanmore on a couple of occasions.

Posted overseas.

In April 1943,1 was told I had been chosen for 'native charter'. They wanted one person per unit and I was the one who was chosen. I was sent to see the M/O (Medical Officer) at HQ, had my medical and was pronounced fit to go overseas despite my protestations that I had flat feet. "You can walk can't you?" the M/O said. What 'native charter' entailed, I had no idea at the time, but I did know that it meant I would have to go overseas.

I was sent to a camp on the Monday, somewhere in Surrey. When I got there, I found there were a lot more the same as me. I reported to the office where the orderlies were and they said, "Oh, go over into such and such a hut and find a bed for yourself." They were bunk beds. I had a bottom bunk and the chap in the one above said, "Hello mate, where did you come from?" When I told him, he says, "Oh, I was stationed there at Yate when Parnell's was bombed." It turned out to be Alf Kefford, who would remain my mate for the rest of the war.

We had leave from this camp because we weren't doing anything; we were just hanging around. Eventually we were sent to Woolwich Barracks, the home of the Royal Artillery. We came home on embarkation leave and then it was back to Woolwich.

On May 14th 1943, we were issued with rations to travel on a train over night. We were told that if you got big rations then you were off to Greenock up in Scotland and if you got small ones you were off to Liverpool. We only had small rations and late at night were put on an overnight train. When we woke up in the morning, a Bristolian who was in the coach with us, Grist I think his name was, said, "Ere, Ken, where do you think we are?" "I don't know," I replied.
"Stapleton Road!" he said. We were in Stapleton Road station down in Eastville. "I only live just outside," he said and he started writing a letter. Seeing the porter, he asked him, "Ere, do you mind dropping this in, my wife only lives just outside." Our train eventuallv took us to Avonmouth.

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