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I was drafted into the Royal Corp. of Signals on 12th February 1941, just after my 20th birthday. During a few days leave in October 1942 I was married in St Mary's Church Woodbridge, Suffolk.

On returning home from Honeymoon, I found a telegram telling me to report back to my Signals unit in Belfast, Northern Ireland - quite a long journey from Woodbridge station!

My unit was preparing to go overseas, but we were not told where. Vehicles were being camouflaged, and filters fitted to the engines, so we presumed that we were going somewhere hot and sandy. On 3rd January 1943 we moved to Liverpool, where we embarked on the troopship ‘Duchess of Bedford’ the following day. It was snowing heavily and very rough. Unfortunately one of the tug boats accidentally rammed the ship whilst still in the dock, so our departure was delayed for 24 hours whilst repairs were carried out. This meant that the convoy had left without us, so we sailed on our own with just a small Royal Navy destroyer as escort.

The ship had been a transport vessel (moving bananas!) and we slept down below in hammocks. After rolling out two or three times the first night, I gave up and slept on the hard floor instead, using my small pack with spare clothing and towel wrapped round as a pillow.

We rounded Northern Ireland into the Atlantic and headed south through the Bay of Biscay towards the Straits of Gibraltar and into the Mediterranean. As we passed the south cost of Spain it was night fall, and on our port side lights were blazing and buildings were lit up like peace time, as Spain had not entered the war. On the starboard side towards Africa there was complete blackout, and of course on board our ship not a glimmer of light was allowed.

We were engaged in various duties on board ship, including rifle and kit cleaning, as well as lifeboat duties, where we would muster on deck with our lifejackets on. When ‘Action Stations’ sounded, all watertight doors locked, and we were shut in or out - wherever we happened to be.

News came through that we were en-route to North Africa and would land at Algiers. The sea journey had taken from 4th January to 18th January 1943. When we arrived off Algiers, the area was being bombed and shelled so the ship was moved further along the coast to the small port of Bonè. This port was not large enough for the troopship to enter, so we disembarked into L.S.I. boats and then marched approximately seven miles back to Algiers.

It was necessary to have protective inoculations (and boosters) against various diseases, including typhus and tetanus. We would queue up in a long line - some lads could not stand the needle - I think all the points were blunt! The queue often became shorter when some lads passed out - perhaps the desert heat had something to do with it! To ward off malaria, we all had to have our daily dose of ‘mepacrin’ tablets. Sometimes they reacted strangely, and for a few days we were walking about looking quite yellow!

Food was largely dished up from some form of ‘mobile cookhouse’, perhaps part of a building taken over, or from large tents mostly open to the elements. The R.A.S.C. played a vital role in transporting goods to forward areas for use by Army Quarter Masters, and onward delivery to individual companies. Extra rations included tinned sausages, tinned meat (small lumps in watery gravy) and corned beef called ‘bully beef’. Vegetables were also tinned - beans or peas, or peas or beans! Bread could only be obtained from local bakeries taken over and used by an army cook. Small plastic pots of jam appeared on rare occasions, but it tasted a bit like potatoes! Water was carried in large mobile water bowsers attached to an army vehicle. It was necessary to treat the water with purifying agents as the source of supply was often local water mains or pumps; the taste became very unpleasant. In North Africa our mess tins were easily cleaned, (after swilling out in a greasy bucket of warm water) by rubbing in fine sand - thus getting a good shine!

As we moved around, we lived in tents for a time, but the Arabs were not friendly, and in the mornings some tents would have long slits in, and things like soap and chocolate etc. would be missing - no one heard a thing!

Whilst in North Africa I learnt to drive, when our unit needed extra drivers ‘to move some vehicles from a depot’. I volunteered, and was surprised to find that the vehicles were three ton lorries! After about fifteen minutes tuition the convoy set off and I rather enjoyed the experience. I then went on to drive a Hillman staff car for our Company Officer Lieutenant W.W. Simpson, a fifteen hundred weight truck, and also a jeep, as his driver.

The war was moving very fast and we were on the road for long periods, setting up signals equipment at each point. En-route we travelled through Phillipville, Millessimo, Bonè, Morriss, Duzerville, Medges-el-Bab, and into Tunis on 12th September 1943.

The name of my unit changed often, and by now we were called the 10th Air Formation Signals, which was part of a force that sailed from Tunis and landed at Bizerta in Sicily on 1st October 1943, travelling through to Catania and Palermo. The volcano Mount Etna was showing signs of activity. On 15th October 1943 we arrived in Taranto, Italy. We were always on the move, going through Brindisi, Lecce and Foggia.

In October 1943 Lt. Simpson and I (as his driver) flew from Sicily to Italy and back, before the main move on 15th October. The aircraft was the famous old ‘Dakota’, and sitting on long metal seats each side, we banked and flew low over Mount Vesuvius before landing at an airport near Naples.

By February 1944, our unit was back in Italy, and we were very much on the move, to keep up with the rapid advances of the forward units. One day, as our convoy of vehicles approached Naples, the bright sunlight appeared to be blotted out by fog, making the sky an eerie colour of orange, green and red. Our route was through the village of San Sebastiano, and as we got closer, we could see (and hear!) the reason for the colours in the sky. Mount Vesuvius was in eruption, and the ‘fog’ was the cloud of ash and larva being hurled hundreds of feet in the air.

During the following days and nights, the fury of the eruption intensified until finally the head of the volcano was blown off. Ash continued to fall and cover the countryside, with streams of red and white hot larva destroying all in it’s path. The local people of San Sebastiano brought their religious icons onto the streets, standing the statues up in the path of the lava, believing that the white hot flow would be stopped. Of course, the lava just rolled on, so they moved their statues a few yards down the road! This continued until at last they collected them in before they all were burnt. Such is faith! The lava flow destroyed the village and we had to move out quickly, after losing some of our transport as well as the Italian house we had taken over.

Lt. Simpson and I were sent out along the slopes of the volcano to map out a safe path for our Company to move out. It was indeed a great sight, and a wonderful, if frightening experience - something that I will never forget.

"Do you remember that night we went up in the dark and stayed (on Vesuvius) until dawn on the Major’s direct order from the Colonel? - What a night - at least we had a marvellous view" (of the eruption). (Extract from a letter written to me by Lt. Simpson in May 1945).

Each day at sunset the sky for miles around was shot with bright colours of red, orange, green and turquoise - a truly remarkable sight. The eruption went on for about four days and nights before we escaped through a safe route. It was such an occasion that I made a few notes in a diary at the time, about what was happening:

"Vesuvius in eruption - evacuation from San Sebastiano. During the day previous and also today I was able to watch history in the making. Molten lava is now crashing its way towards our billet - a solid wall hundreds of yards long by about 30ft high - what a terrifying sight - we’re packing up fast. Army trucks getting civilians out - poor devils - panic in the village - traffic blocks road - its coming nearer - time to get out I think. Its night - I’m not sure what night - the WALL is much nearer and I have got my truck up to the billet loading my kit and also that of WW Simpson, its about 10pm I think - can feel the heat now - lets go - I am not liking this.

At last we are away - most of the stuff has been got away. Have come back to watch - the red hot wall of lava is now pushing the walls of our billet in - the electric light poles are on fire and all around the trees in the orchards are blazing. Vesuvius is still chucking it up - lets get away while we have the chance.

Convoy on the road - sleeping in the cab - camping now by the sea on the other side of the volcano - still erupting violently - tents pitched, food eaten.

Evening of 2nd day - very violent now - whole top blown off and new streams of fire are pouring down towards us - there’s only one road out of here - I’m not too happy.

Early next morning we get order to pack - waiting on road - Major orders WW Simpson and me to recce as far as possible to find out position of lava. Very dark but volcano giving plenty of fiery light - we go up as far as possible by car then walk and climb. My word what a sight - wonderful and terrific - I cannot describe it, we are quite near - loud warnings - huge clouds of red hot cinders belching thousands of feet up and then falling and crashing onto the mountainside before running down into streams of fire.
We go back and report and the convoy moves off - we are now out of danger but its now the third day and night with no sleep - I am almost beat, cannot keep my eyes open even driving. Food again at staging area Naples, then onto boat - night comes and sleep - wonderful sleep - how thankful I am - its been a wonderful experience."

We had embarked again on the landing craft, this time en-route from Italy to Corsica - I really spent quite a lot of time on the sea. We landed at Ajjacio in March 1944 and went through Bastia, Ghisonaccia and Porto-veccia. It was extremely hot, and we were able to cook real eggs (which had been found abandoned near local chicken runs) on the metal track covers of the Bren-gun carriers!

Whilst in Corsica, one day we were following the white tape lines laid down by Royal Engineers to make a safe way through German land mines. A good friend of mine - a young Scots lad decided to reach out and take an orange hanging over the path. It was booby-trapped and exploded in his face. He died on the spot, his remains buried and marked with a wooden cross.

In July 1944, Lt. Simpson and I, as his regular jeep driver, went to Rome and we drove up to St Peters in Vatican City. We made a brief visit inside to marvel at all the wonderful sculptures. The Vatican had been declared an ‘open city’ and so escaped being destroyed as the German forces retreated further into northern Italy. We walked up the steps of St. Peters and through the great doors, to look at the wonderful Michael Angelo statue and other priceless works of art. The place was deserted and very quiet - a really moving experience, so different to the familiar noise of battle.

We made our way back to our unit and drove through Portici and Montefiesconie. "The last time I went to Rome you got a puncture and found it was a live round of .303 ammunition!" (Lt. Simpson). It is true that when I inspected the circular hole in the tyre, and pulled out the offending object, it was live! We must have practically run over it, and it bounced up off the road and into the side of the tyre!

Whilst in Italy, a call went out for blood donation volunteers to help the many casualties. We went to a local hospital and were taken down to the basement, where we were asked to lie on the raised stone slabs to wait for the medical staff. Later, we were told that the area was actually a morgue normally used for dead bodies! I wish I had known sooner!

On 15th July 1944 we travelled back again to Corsica and regrouped until 1st September 1944, when orders came to board ship, and land in southern France with our American allies. We beached at San Tropez near Nice, and were soon on the road north, taking in Marseilles and Salon. The whole front war was moving very fast as we went north through Lyon until we were approximately seventy miles from the Swiss border. As all objectives had been reached, we moved back south, passing through Orange, Avignon and Aix-en-Provence. On 2nd October 1944 we embarked onboard ship at Marseilles to land at Naples in Italy.

Lt. Simpson confirmed that a troop ship ‘The Empress of Scotland’ was in harbour at Naples, and on 16th November 1944 we embarked en-route for ‘home’. The ship travelled in convoy as German submarines were still active in the Atlantic. We experienced the sight and sound of destroyers using depth charges when ‘action stations’ sounded. These were fired over the sterns of the navel ships, and dropped into the sea. After a short interval a huge explosion would be heard and a great plume of water thrown into the air. During the voyage, the ship briefly stopped when we mustered on deck, and despite rolling heavily in the Atlantic, the bodies of three soldiers who had died from wounds were lowered over the side and buried at sea - it all seemed so very sad. The ship then made way again at speed to catch the convoy.

On 2nd December 1944 we landed at Gurock in Scotland. We travelled down to Huddersfield, and I went on home leave from 14th December to 28th December 1944 - what a good Christmas that was!

My unit then moved to Egham in Surrey, and it was here that I broke both my front teeth off - hard chocolate and an army biscuit being responsible! I had to attend ‘sick parade’ and see an army medical officer. A quick sit in a chair - open wide - jab, jab - pull, pull - ‘next man’ - and it was all over! I was given two strong sleeping pills, and next morning when I woke I could not open my mouth - I had to see another medical officer who quickly cleaned it out, and I had 48 hours ‘light duties’. This meant no ‘talking duties’ until a denture was fitted - almost straight away! Very strange feeling at the time.

On 6th January 1945, after another short leave, we were told that we were ‘going into Europe’. On 16th March 1945 we travelled down to Dover, and boarded ship to land at the port of Boulogne in France. The war was again moving quite fast and we too were always on the move, travelling through Belgium en-route to Germany. Whilst in Belgium we sometimes used a recreation centre in Brussels when off duty. I was rather late one evening getting the transport (back of a lorry!), and as we walked through Brussels the Military Police patrol came up to check our passes. One of them noticed I had forgotten to put on my belt over my tunic, and so reported this back to my unit. I was interviewed the next day by our new Company Officer (By this time Lt. Simpson had moved on), and awarded ‘seven days C.B.’ that is ‘confined to barracks’. I had to do ‘kitchen duties’ for a week! I still hate peeling potatoes!

On 18th April 1945 we crossed the border into Germany - we really believed that the end was in sight. We crossed the Rhine the same day and moved north reaching Munster, Osnabruck, and up to the north west of Kiel, stopping at Schleswig-Holstein which was a German seaplane base.

On the 8th May 1945, Germany’s surrender was accepted.

My first UK leave after the surrender was on 4th September 1945 for fourteen days. After that we were on the move again. It was a great day when we arrived in Berlin - such devastation, but strangely quiet. We moved again to Steinbergen near Hanover, then to Fishbeck and the port of Hamburg - now totally destroyed. We were given information about the army ‘release scheme’ and my date, according to what was called ‘age and service group’ was fixed for 4th August 1946. I travelled to the port of Cuxhaven and crossed the North Sea to arrive in Hull on 11th August 1946, and went down to Guildford in Surrey to be ‘de-mobbed’. We were issued with a trilby hat, a suit, and a pair of brown shoes. Happy, relieved and thankful to still be fit and well, I caught the last train home!

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