Written by Bertie Flower, Also known as Ted Flower
After about 18 months of Military experience and training, i was promoted to Lance Corporal and posted to 514 Coy RASC, a company in 168 Brigade and part of the 56th London Division, often known as the Black Cats. They were currently based in Essex, and 514 Coy workshops were located in a doctors house, in the small village of Wakes Colne. The Journey was completed by train. Even Wakes Colne had a station in those days! Although i think if you went past the station, you would be in a turnip field!
When i arrived at the company HQ, Corporal Ben Lyons asked for my army number,"T90193" i replied. "Oh, a territorial" he said. Not in this case, i told him, because, although it was a territorial unit that i had joined, war had been declared and i was a proper soldier!
Workshops were located a couple of miles from HQ, and there were three rows of sycamore trees in the garden where the vehicles were parked for cover. Most of the vehicle servicing was done here. Apparently, they knew i had an aptitude for motor bikes because i was ordered into the bike shop.
The following day i was promoted to full corporal, and within a week i was introduced to the sergeant's mess! Things move a high speed here! As sergeant, i took charge of one of the tweo workshop sections, under Staff sergeant Jock Henderson. Practically all the men were tradesmen, including fitters, carpenters, Blacksmiths , Electricians, Coach trimmers,etc. and each section had a workshop waggon, fitted out with lathes, drills, welders, etc. We had a breakdown lorry with winch, and all the equipment necessary for recovering vehicles. There was also a stores waggon, and a 15cwt truck for a general run-about.
I mostly travelled on the recovery vehicle, although there were exceptions to this arrangement, as when bikes were thought neccessart, for example. When we were on the move in convoy, a recovery vehicle would always bring up the rear to make sure that nobody was left behind. Sammy Clatworthy always drove my breakdown waggon when he was available, and usually i had crew of three or four travelling in the back of the lorry. The breakdown lorry was an Albion,the workshop and stores lorries were Thornecrofts.
I soon discovered that there was a downside to being promoted as sergeant. There was a rota which appeared on the noticeboard for orderly sergeant, and my name began to appear on it. There were only five qualifying for this doubtful honour, and therefore turns came round too quickly for the social register!
One of the duties of orderly sergeant was a regular inspection of the guard over 24 hours. An outhouse near the entrance to the house served as a guard room, and the chap on guard frequently used a lean-to shed whuch had been erected for cook house to shelter under, especially at night. One night a car came down the road and stopped outside the entrance, footsteps were heard on the yard and from inside the cook house a voice called,"halt, who goes there?" a voice returned and said " Bloody well come out and find out!" it was the orderly officer, Captian Wicks. I am sure he is a Yorkshire man by his dialect, and had probably served in the army before. Both he and our workshop officer Capt. Tom Otley were "getting on a bit", and did not join us when we eventually went over-seas.
The guard commander got an old fasioned rocket, His rank, corporal. I never heard what happened between Capt. Wicks and the orderly sergeant of the day, i can only tell you that i was relieved that it was not my turn for duty!
I was very interested to see how the chaps amused themselves when off duty. Some, of course, went off to the villiage pub or the nearest cinema, but the better tradesmen seemed to be able to occupy their time in there own speciality. The turner, or lathe man, spent his spare time making engines for model aeroplanes, and two coach trimmers worked together making minature armchairs for children. They seemed to take orders from chaps going on leave, and they were very well made too!
There were, of course, the cards schools as well.After pay-day there would be little groups of card players in most of the rooms in the billet. After a few days, the winners seemed to gravitate to central tables and the stakes would increase.
I remember standing by and watching an extraodinary game of brag. There were seven chaps who carried on bettibng, and only when two were left in ,still nobody called! there must have been two extraodinary good hands! At last one of the players said with confidence ," i have some more money upstairs , but i won't bother to get it, i will call" When the cards were turned over, they both had identical hands! King,Queen,Jack, Straight! The caller lost!
During august 1942 there seemed to be a change of atmosphere in the camp. We were advised to take leave, and new kit was being issued, Including KD shirts and shorts. It was obvious that we were about to move! But where to? And then we thought we knew where we were going, because were issued with topees! No doubt this was to fool the enemy, but we found later that we had been fooled as well!
The move was in september, the exact date i do not remember, but we were loaded on to a train and the destination turned out to be Gourock,on the river Clyde.
There were several quite large ships standing out on the harbour, and we were loaded on to a tender and taken out to board the Princess Catherine. A ship of about 14,000 tons, and was obviously a cruise ship in more peaceful times.
the three stripes were to be of benifit here, because other ranks were billeted down below on the so-called mess decks, the cargo holds, and sleeping in hammocks, but senior NCO's were put into cabins, four to a cabin!
The ship got underway after dark and by daylight we were obviously well out in the atlantic ocean.I went up on deck and i have never seen such a mess! the decks were being cleaned because half the company had been ill during the night, and there were some very sickly looking chaps up there, looking sorry for themselves!
On looking around, i could see that we were in a convoy of over 30 ships. Sailing quite close to us in the middle of the convoy was a naval cruiser called the Aurora, and at each corner in the distance there was a naval destroyer. Very reassuring!
Various military activites took place, like the occasional rool call, kit inspection, Etc. and seniors nco's were supplied with binoculars and took turns on submarine watch!Otherwise life was very civailised. There was a sergent's mess with a full time barman, and we spent much of our spare time playing rummy and drinking gin and roses lime juice!
Once or twice during the next two weeks there was a flurry of excitement out on the horizon, when two or three of our escort ships suddenly speeded up and rushed out into the distance, but we never heard the reason for this activity.
I was quite concerned at one stage when i was on watch, because one of the ships in the convoy was gradually losing touch with us! we later discovered he was having engine trouble, and the convoy commander had yo make the decision to press on and leave him behind.
Our first stop was at freetown, west africa. We sailed into the huge harbour and took on water and other supplies. We were there two days, i think, during which we were amused by the native boys, who came out in their little boats and begged for money. When money was thrown over the side, they would dive in and catch the money before they reached the bottom!
When we set sail again, still traveling south, the convoy was much smaller, probably because many of the ships which came out with us unloaded and returned to the UK. The Aurora was still with us but the destroyers were not in evidence. Then we were joined by an armed merchant ship with a gun mounted on the bow clearly visable. The Aurora then speeded up, turned, and steamed through the middle of our convoy with all hands lining the rails and went off to the north! We were to encounter Aurora about six months later!
Our next change of scenery was table mountain in south Africa! We docked in Capetown and immediatly recived instructions from the skipper that we should not all crowd on the port side at the same time. Not obvious to land lubbers, but understood by some! we disembarked and boarded an electric train, travelled a few miles and arrived at a station called, I think, Retreat. We then left the train and lined up in "military formation" on the road, and marched carryong full kit for about 3 miles to camp, where we would stay for about two weeks.
After our in-action on the ship for about 3 weeks , some of the men could not manage the march, and i remember seeing a lad from my village flaked out on the road-side! i had not seen to speak to for several years. As they say," it's a small world!"
Tented accommodation was already in place when we arrived at the camp, we were settled in and the various military duties were allocated during the morning of the first day we were there. On the second day, those of us without duty were allowed out of camp, to have a look round and we found that it was not difficult to make friends. I called at a bar with one of the other sergeants, a chap called Frenchie for short; we met some people from Weinberg who we were to get to know quite well.
We met them a few days later, and they asked us to join them at a party. Off we went to the party, I was wearing my best army boots and battle dress and they were in beach wear, it was a beach party! We met them several times during our stay in South Africa, and they could not have been more kind.
My only regret is that I did not climb Table Mountain, but at least I did see it! It was in Capetown that I first saw a cinema with a sliding roof. I was watching a film and little bits of grit started falling on my head. I looked up and found I was looking at the stars!
After about two weeks in Capetown, the time arrived to move on. We boarded the train again, complete with full kit, returned to the docks and boarded the Neuw Amsterdam. This was a liner of about 45,000 tons which was built in the UK, delivered to Holland but, we were told had never done a cruise voyage! When war was imminent, she was brought out of Holland to the UK to keep Hitler鈥檚 hand of her!
Neuw Amsterdam was obviously a lovely ship. She had two swimming pools and the accommodation was superb. The other good point about her was that she was so fast that she did not need an escort. We sailed up the east coast of Africa and eventually arrived at the Gulf of Suez, Where we weighed anchor. We were taken off the ship by tenders, or is it lighters (?), and we were in Egypt!
Transport arrived, and we were loaded up and taken by road to a supply area know as El Tahag. This was on the main route between Ismailiya and Cairo. It was an established camp area set up and used, no doubt, for all British troops arriving in Egypt. The accommodation was tents, as usual, and there were showers, bars, and even cinemas. The cinemas were Shafto鈥檚, and there was a string of them at intervals all the way to Cairo.
Although we were not aware of it at the time. This was probably when 167 and 169 brigades went off up the western desert, whilst 168 brigade crossed the Suez Canal and headed east.
During the next two or three weeks we were re-equipped, and it looked as though we meant business at this time. We thought we would not have too far to travel because at night we could hear the rumble of guns coming from a westerly direction. El Alemain, no doubt.
Eventually we were ready to move. The vehicles had been loaded with everything we would need for the next few months. The division had been supplied with about 30 brand new motor bikes, 41G3L Matchless for the experts, and I had been detailed to adopt my usual position at the rear of the column. Capt. Pyke took the lead and off we went.
But we didn鈥檛 go west towards the artillery, we went to the east! We crossed the Suez Canal, travelling over a pontoon bridge, and into Palestine as it was then. Into and across Jordan and Iraq. We travelled roughly 100 miles a day and prepared a location for the vehicles following for a halt for the night. Part of the journey was on reasonable roads, probably made from an oil-based substance, but quite a lot of the journey was on sandy desert.
My brief, as usual, was to ensure that nobody was behind me. If a pack slipped or someone was taken short, I stayed with them until they were ready to move again. This resulted in one alarming experience and we were lucky to get away with it! We were travelling across the desert with no road, just an occasional oil barrel on the roadside as a guide, and one of the chaps pulled up for a jimmy riddle. I eventually suggested that we ought to be on the move again. He started up his bike and went haring off to the Northerly direction! I went after him as fast as my bike would go, but I could not catch him! By taking silly risks, I eventually headed him off, by which time the other bikes were out of sight. I knew that by turning to the North West we would cross their track, but would we be ahead or behind them?
We set off again to the North west and after travelling three of four miles, we came across tracks of vehicles and found the odd oil barrel marking the route. The track was pretty firm here, but we eventually found signs of the bike tyres and they had passed this point. The next concern was, after pushing the bikes so hard , would we have sufficient fuel? We pressed on and, much to my relief; we caught up with the rest of the column taking a break.
One of the places where we camped overnight was at habinia, where the RAF had a base. We eventually reached the outskirts of Baghdad and camped for three days just outside the city. One notable thing I remember about this stop was the noise the bull-frogs made at night! They made such a racket we couldn鈥檛 sleep. We investigated in the morning, and they were lying in a piece of swampy ground about a quarter of a mile from us. We managed a couple of trips into the city, and popped into the bars and had a look at some of the shops before moving on towards the North East.
After another two days, mostly on the desert, we arrived at the oil town of Kirkuk, Which is towards the NE corner of Iraq, near the area occupied by the Kurdish community. On the way we had passed several Bedouin camps with their long black tents, Arabs sleeping in one half and their animals beyond a barrier at the other end. They did not seem to be overjoyed at our presence, but we had no problems.
We passed to the west of the town, in the direction of Mosul, I believe, and set up camp on land by the side of the road. To my practised eye it was probably farm land, and between two ridges of hills which were about three miles apart, the plain between was completely flat. The road was quite decent, again made with an oil product and sand, with a pronounced camber which made it difficult to negotiate when wet, as I was to discover later!
To the west of our camp a wadi carried surface water away from the road to a stream in the hills. As workshops camp location was quite close to this wadi, the boys in my section decided to make a drainage channel through the middle of our tents, as we had been warned that we would probably have quite a lot of rain to contend with, and we would be there several months.
We were camped in tents known as EPIP鈥檚. They were quite adequate for about ten people in reasonable comfort, but it was not possible to stand up anywhere but under the ridge. Being the clever boys that we were, we decided to lower the floor to give us more headroom, we dug out the floor about two feet deep to gain more head- room and put some of the soil into 鈥榝limsy鈥 petrol cans to make a decent wall to the tent. I shall be referring to this operation later!
I think we arrived at Kirkuk in the middle of November, and the purpose of this task was to protect the oil-pipe line which runs from northern Iraq down to Basra, in the Persian Gulf. Although I know that my brigade was somewhere in the vicinity, I have no idea where their camp was. We saw very little traffic passing on the road, and I suppose there were more Arabs passing on their donkeys, very often with pairs of tigress salmon draped over their backs, than any other traffic.
To break the monotony, after vehicles had been repaired or serviced I would take them out on quite un-necessary road tests. One day I was testing a motor-cycle, seated on the pillion seat with my head down, isle of man fashion, and when taking a bend I got on to a stream of oil, probably leaked from a passing lorry! The bike shot out from under me and I stopped in a drain on the roadside. I managed to ride it home, and had to face the wrath of Private Webster, who had to repair it again!
On another occasion I was out on a bike doing a road test and I met Major Hollands, our company commander, being driven back to camp in his staff car, when I got back to the camp, our company sergeant major came over and told me to report with him to HQ. He told me that I was on AF252! A charge! I asked him why and he said I had been riding a bike without a crash helmet! 鈥淗ow did you know?鈥 I asked 鈥渢he OC told me鈥 he said. I thought that it would be good practice for the major in his little court house, but I didn鈥檛 say so! I received a reprimand!
As a matter of fact, the major was hockey correspondent for the Daily Telegraph, and I read his articles quite often when the war was over. I met him at a reunion at the Conaught rooms near marble arch on the edgeware road, in about 1950, and you can probably imagine the conversation we had!
The question of recreation arose on the camp after we got settled in, and we managed to clear a piece of ground behind the camp for a football pitch and had some good games, inevitably, the boys organised an inter-platoon competition and news of this arrived at brigade headquarters, who sent talent scouts to see if any of our boys were good enough for the brigade team. We supplied players on several occasions after their visit.
We are now approaching the middle of winter, and the rain was getting persistent. Our draining channel was working very well and taking the water away nicely. Until the Wadi filled up, that is! We now had to jump a two foot channel of water on one side of the tent to approach the entrance. This was no problem until one night the wall began to leak into our tent well. I had mad myself a camp bed, but some of the chaps were sleeping on the floor. They decided to go sleep in the vehicles until morning.
About an hour later, there was a sudden swishing noise and the tent wall collapsed letting in the water and the tent was awash! Our clever idea of filling the petrol cans rebounded on us and the weight of the soil and cans on the soaked soil was too much. How do we get out of this one?
The following morning we baled out most of the water and dismantled most of the wall. We then got more cans and rebuilt it, starting on the floor level this time, and sloping the wall slightly outwards, filling in as the wall grew and we made quite a good job of it, I think. We then got a couple of oil stoves lighted up and dried out as best we could.
Close to Christmas time I was on orderly sergeant duty, and I was in our tent chatting with the other chaps about nothing in particular when the orderly officer, Capt. Pike arrived. 鈥淐ome on,鈥 he said, 鈥渨e will go to the officers mess鈥 The sequence started again! I have no idea how I got back to my tent, but when I arrived I was covered in mud! The next day I was relieved my war had not yet started!
We spent Christmas as best we could in the camp. One advantage senior NCO鈥檚 had was a whisky ration, one bottle every two weeks. And some of the sergeants did not take their full ration, which meant more for others. Who were the others I wonder?
Life went on much the same during the early part of 1943, and after a couple of months or so, we had orders to move out. We returned to Egypt by the same route as we left and eventually set up camp to the south west of Suez. There was little to complain about except for the dust storms. Every afternoon the wind began to blow and visibility was 30 yards at the most, and our tents and our kit were full of it. We weighted the sides of the tent down, and shut up shop, taking a rest until the wind dropped, as it invariably, finishing our duties later.
Whilst we were in Egypt we managed to visit Cairo and the pyramids at Giza. I didn鈥檛 get a ride on a camel, but I went into the great pyramid and saw the magnificent interior of the tomb. One of the attractions was an Arab who climbed the pyramid for a piastas. He went up there many times a day. He must have been very fit! We also went swimming in the bitter lakes, which is so densely salted that even I could not sink!
Soon the atmosphere began to change, the officers began to act even more normal than usual, and there were unmistakeable signs that a move was imminent. Then we had a visit from Field Marshal Montgomery! He was in his Humber staff car and he stood up holding on to the windscreen, and told us that we were going to 鈥渉it him here and hit him there鈥︹, and it was going to be so easy! We did not get an opportunity to ask him where we were going, but we were soon to find out.
When we eventually go on the move again, we went to the docks at Alexandria. Our next destination turned out to be Sicily. We landed on the South East coast near Augusta, and then motored up the coast past Catania and on to a place approaching Taormina, Where we set up camp. The Brigade had preceded us, and I think had a difficult time for a while.
When some of our friends called to see us we were told that one battalion of the royal Berkshire regiment would be replaced in our brigade. This turned out to be true, and they were replaced by a battalion of the Welch regiment.
After leaving Iraq, where we were briefly a part of Paiforce, we were in Monty鈥檚 eight army, but now we had joined the central Mediterranean force. I think that one of our brigades from the 56th division went up with the eight army into the desert campaign, and we were to meet up with them later, in Italy.
It was not difficult to make friends in Sicily and we found a few who spoke American English, but this was were we began to pick up a bit of Italian. Eventually we moved into a vineyard and I tied up my bivouac to the fence supporting the vines. The grapes began to ripen and I could reach out and taste them before breakfast! Soon the girls came and started the harvest and, I suppose, treaded the grapes.
Most of the locals made wine and kept it in wooden barrels in a corner of their living rooms. I can鈥檛 say I liked it very much, but I drank it with them.
One incident occurred which is worth a mention. Johnny Johnson, our MSM, made friends with some people in a village a few miles away, and he asked me if I would like to go with him and visit them, I agreed and off we went. We had a very nice evening, but they were over generous with the bottle, and Johnny was too tight to drive home! I had to take over his 15 cwt. Truck and do the driving.
The coast road at this point is a bit hazardous at the best of times, with tight bends and a sheer drop to the sea in many places; I safely negotiated a bend and came to a jeep lying on its side in the middle of the road! I stopped the truck and some army officers appeared, they were from one of the field ambulance units. They asked for help and so I let off the handbrake and let the truck roll down the hill a bit closer, but when I wanted to stop it I couldn鈥檛 find the footbrake and ran into the jeep!
No harm was done, and I volunteered to get my breakdown lorry and take the jeep back to our location. This was agreed and I drove back to camp and got the breakdown lorry. As we were motoring back to the jeep, the officers were puzzled because my crew started to appear. Strictly against army regulations, they always slept in hammocks slung in the back, and I had a quiet word with them before setting off back! We righted the Jeep, hung it on to the crane and took it back, from where their own w/shop collected it the following day.
Shortly after we got settled in our camp we had quite a spectacular display of anger from Mount Etna, which was to the north from our camp. It was particularly brilliant at night, but apparently it is seldom dormant and our hosts thought nothing of it, I thought Sicily was a beautiful island and was sorry to leave it. But we had business to attend to further north!
As usual, we had no idea where we were aiming for; we loaded up all our equipment and followed the leader. We arrived at Messina, crossed over to the mainland, and carried on to the north, keeping to the coast road as far as possible. We were about three days en route, passing Salerno, where the Americans, with British help, had recently, made a landing, on past Naples and we eventually arrived at Caserta. We parked our vehicles under an avenue of tress leading up to Bourbon palace, now the command post of General Mark Clark, OC American 5th army. We had travelled nearly 400 miles from Sicily.
We were of course, supporting 168 brigade as usual, and we were now attached to the American 5th army!
A tragic accident occurred on the evening we arrived. One of the tradesmen in the other section, a chap called Hounslow. (We knew him as 鈥楥lass鈥 because he was always grumbling about class distinction,) had gone out and found a friend he hadn鈥檛 seen for some time. They were walking along the road in the dark and an American in a jeep ran into him and he was killed. What awful luck.
Our company commander was finding life a bit difficult with all this rushing about the place and living in a tent! We had a conference, and I suggested getting a clapped-out ambulance and making a caravan. I got the job! Off I went back to a vehicle dump at Naples and had a look round. I found an old Austin ambulance which would be suitable and asked the chap I charge to keep it for us. The major sent a couple of chaps to collect it, and we were in business!
We removed the engine and front axle, and stripped off everything, leaving only the body on the chassis. As the roof over the driver was part of the body, we left it in position, having in mind a nice veranda for the major to address us from. We then cut and welded the front part of the chassis to form a tow bar, made a towing ring and welded it into position. If we had a sudden move we could now hand it on the back of a lorry and take it with us. (All our Lorries had a towing hitch)
But we had not yet finished. We had saved the battery, acquired some nice little lights and we fixed and wired them up with switches. Very cosy! We also made up a jack for the drawbar with stationary. Then came the bunk-bed, the table, and a few hangers for uniforms and accessories and we handed it over. This was, of cou7rse, done in our spare time, but as most of our work was done under the cover of darkness, like recovering ditched vehicles, for example, we were not delaying the end of the war! As a matter of fact, in my experience we had far more ditched vehicles to recover than those damaged by shellfire.
There are a couple of incidents worth recording! I was asked to go with an officer from another brigade to access the possibility of recovering a lorry which had gone off the road and down into a shell (or bomb) crater. This was on a road half way up a wooded hill and the crater was on a bend, taking away part of the road. The driver must have lost contact with the driver ahead in the dark. Those little lights on the diff. housing again!
The lorry was lying on its side about 30 feet below road level, with its wheels hanging over a further drop into a ravine. It would be difficult, but with two breakdown lorries and crews, I thought we could do it.
Having received the go-ahead, we went back and set the cranes each side of the crater, passed the winch cables under the lorry and slid it back towards the road and partly up the slope. We then fixed a check cable to a set of ground anchors to prevent the lorry from rolling over too far, and pulled it further up the slope until it toppled on to its wheels. It was then a simple job to winch the lorry up the crater and on to the road. And the engine started!
The other job was similar in a way; the driver lost contact and drove into a very narrow lane off the main road. He had gone partly up a bank, resulting in the lorry toppling over and wedging its self in to this lane with high banks on both sides. The lorry exactly fitted the lane!
We backed the breakdown lorry partly down the lane, attached the winch cable, and slid the lorry back up the lane until there was sufficient space to right it. It was scratched a bit, but no serious harm done. All this in the dark!
This was taking place towards the end of October 43, and shortly after this, the allies reached the Gareliano River. Crossing the river proved very difficult and the infantry in my brigade took a beating, resulting in a withdrawal for 鈥榬est and refit鈥
So far it has been fairly easy to remember the journey, and the places where we made camp. Next year, we were to visit Nola, Foggia Bari, Toronto, take leave in Alexandria across the Mediterranean, join the 8th army on the east side of Italy, and Dubrovnik, in Yugoslavia, all this happened nearly sixty years ago, and so perhaps I can be forgiven if I do not get the sequence exactly right! And the story will not end there.
One outstanding event leads me to believe that, after leaving Caserta we went back to Naples and then across country to the NE side in support of the eight army, near Ancona. There was snow on the ground, and one morning when we turned out the snow was black with dust. The reason for this turned out to be that Vesuvius was erupting! It must have been in excess of one hundred miles away, and the dust was carried on the wind!
Now this must have been near Christmas time, and we spent the following Christmas in Yugoslavia. I would agree that it meant a lot of travelling, but there seems to be no other explanation.
Operation Shingle, Churchill鈥檚 title for the Anzio landing, was about to take place, and we were called back to the west side again to re-join the fifth army. We left everything but our personal belongings near Naples and embarked on a LST (landing ship tank) and landed on Anzio harbour on the 4th of Feb. 1944. The main landings had been on the 21st/22nd of Jan. We were replacing the 46th division, and they handed all there vehicles over to us. I thought at the time that they had not lasted very long!
To digress briefly, there is a Bedford QL lorry at the Weybourne Tank museum with a Black Cat (56th Div) sign on the front and an oak tree (46th Div) sign on the back!
Could this be one of our old vehicles?
We disembarked and were taken away from the harbour to the north; we entered a field by the roadside with strict instructions to keep to the outside because the field was mined. I don鈥檛 believe it was, but I though wheel marks would be too obvious to enemy aircraft. But I did obey the order!
After having a look round the vehicles and sorting out the equipment, we moved off the field and drove a couple of miles to the North West along the coast road and pulled in to our left where there were some very big and scattered pine trees. This would be our camp for all the time we were on the beach-head, and our vehicles were nicely hidden under trees. Across the road from the entrance to our camp was a farm house where our company headquarters was set up (we had never been so close) Outside the door of the farmhouse was a steel pillar box affair which looked like a sentry box, and this was where our company sergeant major, to the embarrassment of the major, spent most of his time while we were there. He completely lost his nerve!
Knowing we were within range of enemy artillery, we made our own arrangements for protection. I dug a hole about 7ft by 4ft and five feet deep, put a big log across the top and supported it with a post, covered it with whatever I could find, finally laying my bivouac on top. I felt safer there than in any other bolt holes. I used to visit the other platoon sergeants in their holes with only a tent for cover, but I never felt secure.
I acquired a fairly big steel ammunition box which I had by my camp bed, and I had brought with me my primus stove. Before I turned in at night I prepared a cup of Nescafe and had a nice drink every morning before getting out of bed!
Across the road just past our company HQ there was a battery of 25lb field guns, and every night they would take the guns forward to poop off at the enemy, and then return to their hide-out for daylight. Thank goodness they did not fire in daylight鈥
Plenty has been written about this campaign, but we did not realise how near to disaster we were. We were soon to experience the power of Anzio Annie! Apparently, the campaign commander had called up the navy, and a battle cruiser arrived off the shore and started firing over our heads to try to silence Annie, she was a big gun, a 14 inch railway gun, which was mounted on a railway truck and they kept her in a tunnel, bringing her out to fire a few rounds an then hiding again. I was to discover after the war that the RN Cruiser was the Aurora, the ship which had been our main escort on the way to Capetown! Not only that, but on board was my school friend and neighbour Frank Cox!
Now this should have been reassuring, except for the fact that the shells were screaming two ways over our heads. Occasionally one would fall short! The major had been on one of his frequent visits of inspection, and was walking along our muddy road-way when a shell came screaming over. He dived into the mud, and when the shell had passed he stood up and furtively looked round to see if anyone had seen him. I was looking the other way!
Johnny Johnson came to see me one day and told me that Brigade were getting short of ambulances, would I go and recover some. I asked where they were, and he told me there would be a guide at the ADS (advanced dressing station). I rounded up the crew and we set off, picked up the guide, and off we went. We passed through where the railway bridge had been, and out into open country, heading towards the hills, clearly visible in the distance. Therefore, we could clearly be seen from the hills!
If our vehicle had been clearly marked ambulance I鈥檓 sure we would have been ok, but it was a big military vehicle, in daylight, a legitimate target. Suddenly there was an almighty bang, Sammy looked across at me and grinned and I told him to get moving, and suddenly he called out, 鈥渙h, my legs鈥, he slumped over the wheel and started sliding off his seat. There was no protection and no doors on these old vehicles, and he was in danger of falling off the lorry. I climbed over to his side, pulled him back on board and then stopped the lorry.
We got Sammy down and carried him across the ditch and away from the vehicle, he was obviously in a bad way and I sent the medic back to get an ambulance. We got Sammy on board and he was taken away. I walked back with the crew; I wouldn鈥檛 risk trying to move the lorry. We eventually got a lift and called at the field hospital and there was Sammy, as large as life, and laughing his head off, and covered with bandages from the thighs down.
We eventually arrived back at the camp and we walked in from the road. We had just reached the pine trees and again there was a bang. A shell hit the top of one of the trees and there was shrapnel everywhere! Johnny Keith got hit in the ankle, and was calling from someone to knock him out, but otherwise we were very lucky. Johnny was taken to hospital and so far as I know survived, although I never saw him again. Sadly, the following morning we heard that Sammy had died. He is lying in the war cemetery near Anzio.
Later in the afternoon Johnny Johnson asked me if I was going to fetch in the breakdown lorry. I told him I was not keen, so he said he would go. I said, 鈥淲ell for Christ鈥檚 sake wait until after dark!鈥 he took my advice, and drove the lorry home with five tyres out of the six flat!
Although we had an occasional visit from enemy aircraft when we first arrived, the allied planes soon put a stop to that. But the most spectacular sight was the American daylight raids. They used to come over in formations of about 20 aircraft, sometimes with a straggler limping along behind. We saw several of them shot down, sometimes the crews parachuted down but where they landed it was not certain. We were very pleased to see them, and our fighter aircraft were welcome too!
In mid-march 44, we were withdrawn from the beach-head and replaced by the 5th division, again leaving all our equipment for the newcomers. And they were welcome to it! We boarded a LCT In the harbour, and then hung about for what seemed ages. I said to one of the crew, 鈥淵ou had better tell the captain to get a move on. We are in military range here鈥 鈥渨e鈥檙e alright鈥 he said. At that moment a shell landed on the deck of another ship standing out in the harbour. Both that ship and ours were on the move before they properly weighed the anchor!
We were soon out of the harbour to everyone鈥檚 relief, and on the way back to Naples.
After we had disembarked, we collected the vehicles etc. left by the 5th div. And I think we went to Sorrento. The location is not important, but we could eventually arrive to camp near Foggia airfield. We spent quite a long time there and got to know some of the RAF boys through visiting their sergeants鈥 mess. One evening one of them told us that they were going on a practice bombing mission tomorrow and asked if we would like to join them.
This sounded too good an opportunity to miss, and the three of us said 鈥測es please.鈥 We arrived the following morning and eventually climbed aboard and took off. The bombing would be done from 7000 feet, and we circled around for ages, gradually gaining height until the required altitude had been achieved .The plane was an American liberator, a four engined plane and very popular with the RAF at that time. When we reached the required altitude, the second pilot, or engineer, got don from his seat to see to the bombing part of the mission. I had been standing behind the cockpit up to this point, and the pilot invited me to get up on to the vacant seat.
After the bombs were away and they were tidying up behind, the pilot suggested that I should take over. I told him that I had no idea what to do. He pointed at a gauge on the instrument panel and said, 鈥淭hat is the artificial horizon, keep it level.鈥 I waggled the wings a bit, and over-corrected, to cries of alarm from behind, the pilot took over again and all was well!
Eventually we were on the move again and to our surprise we travelled south! After a long journey we arrived at the port of Bari, on the southern Adriatic coast, and went into the army rest camp. The next move was to the port with all our vehicles and equipment, and this time we loaded them on a LST and set sail across the Adriatic to Dubrovnik, or rather to the port of Gruz, near Dubrovnik.
Our camp was to be in an industrial site up the hill form the port, and after an uncomfortable night in draughty conditions, the W/shop sergeants decided that was not good enough. Jock Henderson went to a house across the road from our camp and fixed up with an oldish chap living there for us to hire a room. Stephan was very amenable and did shopping and other jobs for us, including a constant supply of the local booze, Rakia. Unfortunately, we were to discover that he liked our whisky better!
Soon after we had the W/shop in working order, a civilian came along and offered to help with vehicle service. Mainly in sign language, I told him he could repair the radiator on a Ford Truck. He set about it with urgency not matched by our chaps, and did a very good job.
514 coy W/shops.
This chap spoke passable Italian, we had picked up a bit in our travels, and I thought we had better have a chat with him. He was a Czech. Who had been a prisoner, had managed to escape and had been on the run ever since. All he asked was that he would help us a far as possible, in return he would feed and bunk with the boys. His name was Leo. He also said that he would like to go to Italy with us when we left Yugoslavia! I told him that we would give it a try, but not to bank on the trip to Italy.
The old city of Dubrovnik was something very special. It was walled all round and built on rock which jutted out into the Adriatic, it was also closed to motor traffic. There were people living in the town, although there could not be many, and in the main street, most of the shops to be found elsewhere.
Our purpose there was to support the Partisans, who were harassing a corp. of German troops trying to return home from the south, and one day we had a visit from a party of them. They had required an old jeep with very doubtful tyres, and they came to see if we could supply them with something more reliable. As it happened, we had some used, but serviceable tyres which we had saved. After having a word with Johnny Johnson, we fixed them up.
This turned out to be a good move. They had come from a small town a few miles away and they asked if we would like to join them in the evening for a meal and a drink. Four of us went, and we arrived at this place, which was what we would describe as a town hall. There was a long, bare wooden table down the centre of the room and long wooden seats without a back. The table was laden with food. Chicken, Salads, Cheese, Bread rolls and bottles of wine.
We mixed in with our hosts as we sat down, there were seven or eight of them, and we made conversation in 鈥楶idgin Italian鈥, and had a very good evening. We knew they were a wild bunch, even their women wore strings of hand grenades round their waist when walking down the street, but that knowledge did not prepare us for this experience. After the meal we went out into the town square and these chaps started pooping off their hand guns into the air and making hell of a racket. They had consumed a quantity of liquor of course!
I had admired a beautiful little Beretta automatic pistol that one of them was carrying. 鈥淚 will get you one鈥 he said. And would you believe it, he turned up at our camp a few days later and handed me a Beretta!
We were to spend Christmas 44 there. On Christmas morning I went over the road to see the boys and was invited to join a pontoon school. When I left they seemed to regret having given me the invitation. In the afternoon a party had been laid on for some local children which the boys had rounded up, and they all seemed to enjoy it. We did anyway!
Sometime into the New Year, a leave party was organised for about 30 men to go to Rome for two weeks, I was called into the office to receive the order to take charge.
We embarked on a LCI (landing aircraft infantry) this time, went back to Bari, where I was to report to HQ at the rest camp for further instructions. Two Lorries had been laid on for our transport, but before we left I called the chaps together for a little chat. There were some chaps there who were strangers to me, and I didn鈥檛 know if they could be trusted, so I explained to them about the accommodation reserved for us, the arrangements for meals and that I would insist on only one rule 鈥 there would be a roll call every morning (I had a list of names) If anyone was missing I would immediately report the matter to the nearest military police.
There was a full corporal in the party, who I didn鈥檛 know, and I asked him to take charge of the second lorry, we set off early the next morning, using the route which we were now used to. There were over 300 miles ahead of us, but we noticed that some of the boys were stocking up more tins of bully beef than I thought necessary. I asked my second in command if he had an explanation. Apparently the bully was intended for barter for commodities beyond the reach of soldiers in a foreign land!
Our route took us over to the west side of the country again, passing Caserta and travelling north we came to Monte Casino for the first time. We went straight through the main street and, apart from the road, which was now clear; the buildings on either side were simply heaps of rubble. It was quite a large town, and as we travelled through the street, we could see the monastery which had caused the allies so much trouble on the top of the hill ahead.
Our next stop, after making numerous enquiries, was the hotel which had been booked for us. It was a nice little place and we had no complaints, particularly bearing in mind some of the accommodation we had occupied already! And the next move was a good meal!
To arrive safely at our destination was a great relief, and the responsibility of mothering 30 plus young soldiers over two weeks was a daunting prospect. However, this was my first holiday for some time and I was determined to make the most of it. I took it easy the first day and then joined two of the chaps, bought a sightseer鈥檚 book on the city, and we visited as many of the more famous palaces and buildings as time allowed.
The coliseum was, for me, the most impressive of the ancient buildings, but of the churches, St.peters in the Vatican is the one to visit. We went to the Vatican because we were told that we would be able to visit the pope. We were escorted into the palace by the palace guards in their uniforms with yellow and blue stripes, along corridors to a very long chamber, with rails along each side about 10 or 12 feet from the walls. The visitors were ushered into place behind the rails, and when the pope came in, he was Pius XII by the way, and he was carried in on a bier seated on a throne at shoulder height.
He eventually dismounted and walked along the rails, blessing everyone in reach, and he spoke to some of the visitors in English. After leaving we walked round St. Peters square to view what we could see of the pope鈥檚 residence and the palace.
Other noticeable sights were the Parthenon, where royalty was buried, the Victor Emanuel monument with the unknown warrior鈥檚 tomb, and the trevi Fountain. This I think is one where people throw in coins. Rome is a wonderful city, full of monuments and works of art. I wonder if it would be possible to repeat the skills of the old artisans today.
After about ten days in Rome we had to think about returning to Dubrovnik. The roll call system had worked better than I hoped for, and there was no need to call in the military police! The stocks of bully seemed to be exhausted, and I think the chaps were ready to go back because Lira was in short supply!
We travelled back by roughly the same route and arrived back at the rest camp at Bari without further incident. The following morning I reported to HQ to receive orders for our return to Yugoslavia, and they told me we would have to dig in at the camp for a while because my company was planning to return to Italy. When I had time to consider this arrangement, I realised I was stuck with all these chaps for an indefinite period, with nothing to occupy their minds except getting into mischief!
I eventually called them together and explained the situation. I reactivated the holiday rule, and said we hadn鈥檛 got on very well whilst on holiday, and hoped they would not let me down now. And they didn鈥檛.
Whilst we are waiting for the return of the company, I would like to recall an incident which had occurred earlier in the campaign. Unfortunately, I do not remember where, or when!
Dusty was a private soldier with a heart of gold. When he had not been drinking that is! His surname was probably Miller, but I am not so sure. He told me one day that he had received a letter from his wife, who had said his son had broken a neighbour鈥檚 window. 鈥淥h dear鈥 I said, 鈥淲hat happens now?鈥 鈥淚 sent sixty three鈥 he said. He was referring to one of our several communications with home. We had a list of numbered phrases, of which we could select three of four, and then would be decoded when arriving in the UK. 63 meant 鈥楯olly good show. Keep it up鈥
I was on duty as orderly sergeant, and then men were billeted in a hut, similar to a Nissen hut. The time was near lights-out and as I walked in the door all was quiet and there was a man sitting on nearly every bed. 鈥淓verything all right?鈥 I asked. The chap nearest me nodded towards the other end of the hut. There was Dusty sitting on a chair with a Lea-Enfield rifle across his knees, and holding the chaps in terror. I asked if it was loaded, and he nodded. Now what does a chap wearing an orderly sergeants鈥 tab do in a case like this?
I walked straight down the middle of the hut and sat on a bed facing Dusty. 鈥淗as the missus got the window mended yet?鈥 I asked him. He didn鈥檛 know. We had a chat for a few minutes, and then I said to him, 鈥淚 think you had better give me that鈥 and held out my hand. To my relief, he handed over the rifle. I withdrew the bolt and took the round from the breech, took out the magazine and handed back the rifle. I gave the ammo to the corporal IC.
Dusty should have been charged with something! But I didn鈥檛 know how to do it! It had not been part of my training. I don鈥檛 think I lost any bonus points from the boys, but I could quite easily have lost three stripes if any one of those chaps had let the cat out of the bag! But they didn鈥檛 and I call that a real comradeship!
I went for a walk in the camp to watch a game of soccer in progress, and I thought a face on the sideline was familiar. It turned to be a very well known sportsman who has recently died; it was Stan Cullis, a Wolverhampton Wanders player, later to become Wolves manager. He was in the RAF, and his job at the Bari rest camp was PT instructor.
Eventually our company returned from Dubrovnik, and after a few days preparation, we set off again, travelling north. The same old route, Foggia, Naples, Caserta, etc. but this time we travelled beyond Rome, past the leaning tower of Pisa, and on to Milan. Our destination turned out to be a very large Italian factory in the Milan district of Lambrate. The factory had been very badly damaged by bombs, whose bombs I never discovered, and the roofs had mostly fallen in. However, the office block was largely intact, and this was to be our billet for a while.
As a matter of interest, the name of the factory was Innocenti, and after the war when Italy started exporting the small motor scooters, one model was the lambretta, (Lambrate!) and printed on the scooter was the manufactures name, innocenti!
Our purpose in Milan was never clear to me, but as the war in Italy was now finished I think the division was assisting with clearing up the mess. Milan was the only place apart from our leave in Rome, where we could go out after duty and enjoy the surrounding, have a drink and a meal, sit on the side walk and watch the world and the signoritas go by! This is something we never think about doing at home, but it is a very pleasant way of spending a few spare moments!
Milan is another fine city with marvellous old buildings and monuments, lovely wide streets and a tramway system, which I used quite a few times. It was a novelty to me! My friend at this time was sergeant D.W.French-cottage, he came from Folkestone and I tried to contact him after the war, but could not get in touch. Frenchie and I explored quite a lot of Milan together, and made a few visits to the theatre as well.
We saw the opera house but did not attend a performance. We visited the Piazza del Duomo and the Cathedral and also the piazza where Mussolini started his journey to power as a journalist. I bought some postcards with pictures of Mussolini and his mistress, Petacci, strung up from lamp posts in the square after they had been captured by the anti-fascists.
We slept in offices upstairs in our billet, and we were in the habit of leaving the windows open when we went out in the evening to cool the place down. We also left the lights on. When we arrived back one evening, the whole place was covered with Black Beetles. The ceiling and walls, our bedding and mosquito nets and all our kits were Black. What a difficult job to clear up that was! The following morning we could see the reason for the problem. The grass on the large area in front of the factory had been cut, and the beetles had been attracted to the light after dark. Thereafter, we changed our tactics!
After a few weeks had passed I went with a detachment under staff Sgt. Jock Henderson to a village close to the Swiss border. Our mission here was to support a company of South African Engineers who were to clear the frejus tunnel had been blocked by the retreating German army.
Our sergeant mess was established in a private house in the village. It was here that I learned to play the Pianola! The house was fully furnished with some lovely furniture, and we made good use of it. Yes, and we did respect it. And it was from this point that I received the authority to proceed on LIAP! Leave in advance of Python. Python being repatriation to the Uk-28 days leave.
I organised transport to our HQ, picked up the necessary papers, caught a train, and I was on my way home. We passed through Switzerland, through Paris and on to the channel port, and boarded a ferry. On the way over the channel the loud-speaker system was working overtime and one of the messages promised dire consequences for anyone caught with un-authorised weapons, The Beretta! I didn鈥檛 want to be sent straight back to Italy from Folkestone without stepping ashore! I dug into my kit and found the gun, put it in a paper bag and threw it over the side! And then went to the bar for a drink. I had cherished that little pistol, and taken it on my travels practically all over Italy.
When my leave was over I boarded a train, and when it arrived back at Folkestone the loud-speakers were still issuing instructions. 鈥淎nyone in release group 25 or over please report to the RTO鈥 That鈥檚 me! I found the rail transport officer鈥檚 office and saluted, by force of habit! He told me that I was due to be released shortly, I would not be returning to Italy.
I was despatched to Cheshire to a holding camp, I believe it might have been Oulton Park, but im not sure, and when I arrived, there were several chaps at the camp in the same position. In September 1945, I went to Bulford Barracks at York, where I was presented with discharge papers and a civilian overcoat. I could have had a suit, but I didn鈥檛 care for the style!
There is a small twist to the story and an extra bonus for me! I think the release group numbers were age groups, and because I miss-stated my age when enlisting in1939, I was released two groups earlier than I should have been.
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