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The story relates to my grandfather who in 1941 joined the DLI although coming from a mining area he could have continued to work in the coal industry. He was also considerably older than the majority of recruits and as such seems to have taken on a 'father' like role. He saw action with the Sherwood Foresters to whom he was attached as a replacement in 1942, and was involved in the Italian campaign as well as being in North Africa and Greece. He did not tell his children much about his war, maybe because they were all daughters but he did tell me of some of the incidents in which he was involved, perhaps I being the son of his eldest daughter.

The war in Italy involved a lot of hill to hill fighting in difficult conditions without much real cover against a well trained and determined enemy. Taking a stone covered hill, holding it against counter attack, trying to dig in but often making do with mounds of stones for cover. Up and down hills in heat, he never liked hot weather for the rest of his life, marching for miles, sleeping in ditches etc. I recall a story of a march back from an action when a rifle went off when slung, as an infantryman in the company had left a round in the camber. This round blew the head off the poor lad marching behind, and caused the whole company to have to hand in their ammunition before they were subsequently marched anywhere. My granda recalled that on one hill top they had all just handed in their ammunition before being relieved when the Germans attacked and the bullets had to be quickly handed out whilst under fire. My granda had a lot of respect for the Germans even though he had to fight them, what he hated was their ideology and cruelty. He told that after one long hike he and the rest of his comrades were marched into a farm yard for inspection, lined up by officers in a soldierly manner, ‘usually to be told to get their hair cut’ even when ‘these officers themselves had long foppish hair.’ On this particular occasion four German machine gunners two to a gun where hidden in the attic of the farm buildings and opened up on the parading British soldiers, killing many of my grand fathers friends. He and another mate dived into a hen house and as my granda’s companion grabbed his tin helmet a round went right through his hand. Eventually tanks arrived, the Germans surrendered and were shot.

On one of these hill attacks one of my granda’s comrades stepped onto a anti personnel mine that blew his foot off. This young lad was only nineteen and was a very popular member of the group. I think my granda was a bit of a father figure looking after the young lad as much as he could, very much in keeping with coal pit tradition. They were pinned down on the hill overnight and my granda kept the young chap as comfortable as he could, cuddling him to keep him warm and comforting him telling him ‘aye it’s an awful thing lad but you will be alright pet’ in his County Durham accent and that he would get treatment and get home soon. As soon as daylight came the young lad was stretchered off the hill to a field hospital and all thought that although wounded he would at least survive the war. When the remainder of the company were relieved a few days later they found out that their young friend had bled to death before he reached the dressing station and was buried at the bottom of the hill. ‘Somebody’s canny little lad…’ In the late eighties after many years of devoted family life, keen gardening and a hard working and skilled career as a carpenter for the NCB my granda started to become increasingly confused. Lilly his wife of over fifty years and my grandma became ill and was diagnosed as having lung cancer, even though she had never smoked. Her treatment caused her hair to fall out and after a few weeks it grew back thick and short. My mother told me that my grandma had snapped a little at my granda one night as he was cuddling and comforting her, he had said, ‘there there lad I know its an awful thing.’ My grandma died soon after, granda following her a few years later. I am proud of them both and as I get older I increasingly understand the strength that they had which enabled their generation not only to overcome the evil and tragedy they faced but to live full, honourable and happy lives thereafter.

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