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Another April Shower
This story is submitted to the People’s War site by a member of Market Harborough Branch, Royal British Legion on behalf of Kenneth West and has been added to the site with his permission. Mr West fully understands the site’s terms and conditions.

After a most enjoyable lunch with friends, I was on my way home on the Arriva bus when we suddenly ran into one of those torrential April showers. Perhaps it was the earlier conversation over the coffee which then triggered the memory of another April shower 56 years previously on a very different vehicle.

We left the start line at dawn on ‘Operation Destroyed’ to clear the Germans from the ‘Island’ between Nijmegen and the Rhine in preparation for the attack on Arnhem. Progress was slow, partly due to the intensive mine-fields, but also due to the poor wireless communications which always dogged us in Holland, contact between the infantry and their support tanks was nil. In desperation, our C.O. ordered a company signaller to sit on the back of the tank commander’s Sherman and relay messages and orders to him direct.
Eager hands ‘assisted’ me on to the hull where I was instructed to tap the tank man’s head twice whenever a message needed to be exchanged. Fortified by this improved technology the tanks of the Ontario Regt. of Canada rolled slowly forward.

We made steady progress until late morning when the order “stop advance” came. I tapped the Lieutenant’s shoulder twice (a tank commander with a sore head doesn’t auger well for good relations) and passed the message to him. Our 4th Lincolns friends were encountering strong resistance at a waterworks 500m to our left front. That’s when it started……rain spots as big as two bob bits. Down went the head inside the tank and the hatch closed. Fortunately, there was a tarpaulin on the hull and I was able to pull a corner of it over me to give some shelter from the worst of the shower. For 20 minutes I listened-in to the ensuing battle at the waterworks and felt sorry for the lads of the Lincolns. In war the sharp end isn’t the most pleasant place to be but when it rains it’s ‘orrible.

The rain stopped as quickly as it had started. The message came to “prepare to advance towards the waterworks”, so I tapped the hatch twice with my bayonet. As it opened gingerly, I saw a pair of eyes staring at me in disbelief. “Christ — I’d forgotten all about you Jock”, said the Canadian. “Prepare to move sir…..it’s stopped now” I replied, referring to the rain. Down went the head and shoulders. Another head popped up, then a third. “You’re a b****y cool customer Jock, sitting there with all that stonking going on”, said the latter. I looked around where the tank stood and saw a number of black holes in the ground which were still smoking. Holding the head set hard to my ears, I’d been so engrossed in the Lincolns battle, huddled under the tarpaulin I hadn’t realised that the Germans had been shelling us.

A week later, after we’d taken Arnhem, we were again leading company and mounted on the Shermans of the Calgary Regt. “Awa’ dean yon road tae Amsterrrrdam”. We’d gone but a few kilometers when the first tank was knocked out, so in the gathering dusk we harboured in nearby woods. As we sat, quietly chatting over a mug o’ char, one of the Calgary lads said, “We’re so glad that we knew we’d be carrying you Jocks today. A guy from the Ontarios told us that when they cleared the island, a Jock signaller had sat on the back of the command tank, ignoring all the mortars and shells, he’d carried on as cool as you like, passing messages to and from his Battalion H.Q.”.

I hid a wry smile. The truth was that even as a lad, I’d never liked getting wet. I suppose that from such half -truths are most legends born.

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