蜜芽传媒

I joined the army in July 1944. So please note that D Day had already been and gone. So my experiences were only for a short time, landing in France in January 1945 and the war finished in May 1945. I find this somewhat difficult to write as many were in the fray for five to six years, not for five months. Still I will try.

We, meaning a 100 or so Royal Engineers (RE), landed in Calais to be sent to many RE companies as reinforcements to top up any losses. Remember, by this time France was clear, as was most of Belgium. The British 2nd Army and the 1st Canadian Army were being used to clear German forces out of Belgium and Holland, while United States forces were mostly in the South East. After arriving in Calais we were taken by transport into Belgium. I was sent first to the coastal town of Blankenberge, above the town of Brugge. Although I did not know at the time one of the five of us, from our two streets in Farncombe, was killed in Blankenberge some weeks before as his RE company was clearing the town of mines and bobby traps. I think his name was Elliot. He was some months older than me, so was there some time before me. My friends also included a man from Yorkshire called Jack Cooper. We had met at the 502 Field Company in Westmoreland for intensified training before heading to Europe

We, my friends and I, were taken to a holding camp at Leopoldsburg. This was large and had been a Belgium army camp before the war. We spent a week or two before being collected by the Field Company we had been posted to and that was the last time I saw Jack. While we were at Leopoldsburg, it was brought home to us all about the war. We had the usual mess hall for eating meals, going out to the rear to empty our mess tins of any leftovers. Out by the bins there were small kids about six to ten years old begging for anything. After seeing this I used to ask for a bit extra if possible, depending on who was serving the food. I was never a big eater in those days so I was able to help. The little girl I tried to look after at the time was Nichole; a very sad sight, the bits of war you do not see. Talking of the mess hall has reminded me that this was the last time, until the end of the war that I sat at a table and chair.

Anyway, the day arrived when a jeep came to collar me and take me to the 503 Field Company RE. I can still remember the identity number on the truck (391) white letters on a blue patch. I think there were three of us to reinforce this company. I did not know the other two at all. The company had four platoons of some 40 to 50 men. The platoons were split into sections of approximately 10 to 12 men. Do you know a funny thing, I cannot remember which platoon, or more importantly, the section number I was in? TAIS 391 was the company identity number. Later on in my travels I always looked out for my mate Fred North who was in the BASC. But not knowing his company number it was a dead loss!

The right hand side of Holland or the east had now been cleared and the west and north were still in the hands of the German army. The poor old 1st Canada army had a very hard time in this area. So I joined 503 F Company at Venlo, a small town on the river Maas. The platoon I was with was staying in a small hotel which had the back walls blown out by shellfire. So you entered at the front door right into the bar. (Sorry no drinks!) I can鈥檛 remember but I think I was on the ground floor amongst the broken chairs, tables and debris. This Company 503 was an independent company. This is not part of a division and was used by anyone who needed some sappers. We had a number of three-ton truck, armoured cars and half-tracks, plus small trailers parked with assorted explosives. Not very nice if your truck was the one towing the trailer! Could be injurious to one鈥檚 health! On first getting to the company at Venlo, the platoon sergeant NCO, who in those days was God, asked, 鈥淗ave you got your rifle? Ammo?鈥� (This is 50 rounds of 303.) 鈥淒o you have any handguns? If so, make sure safety pins are fixed properly. Next, as there is plenty of transport find yourself a bed that can be mobile.鈥� This means go find something that is light enough to carry on the truck. Well, next door to this hotel was a convent that was now only rubble. No roof and only an odd wall standing. So I looked around the place and to my amazement I found a steel bed frame, which, if stood on a couple of boxes would be ideal. (So you could say at 18 陆 years I slept in a nun鈥檚 bed!) Also, on what was left of a wall was hanging a small crucifix that I still have. Seemed pointless leaving it there.

We cleared some mines from the bank of the river Maas and built a bailey bridge for the transport to cross. A few miles on was the German border. I must tell you it was a strange thing. We were to help the 6th Guards Armoured Brigade (GAB). I was talking to a NCO from the 6th Guards and we got on very well. Talk about a coincidence 鈥� ten years later when I was working as a trainee manager for Mence Smith I met him again! His wife was working at the Twickenham shop. Is that not amazing 鈥� talk about a small world.

While we were working on the Maas river, bodies of German soldiers were floating by. There was talk of pulling them out, but as there was also talk of floating mines etc we let things go. We then left to move on into Germany. Not a lot of trouble as the German army had retreated back to the Rhine River. There were a few skirmishes between 6th GAB and the German paras but nothing big. I should mention that when I was at Venlo I teamed up with a soldier named Phil Atkinson who was the same age as me. Most of the other men were older, 20 to 35 years old, as the company had been in North Africa before Normandy. We did not do much for a week or so except blow down a few roadblocks etc until we finally arrived in a small town called Xanten, which was very close to the Rhine. This was the spot where it had been decided that the army should cross and break into the north of Germany. The enemy was in very large numbers on the opposite bank, right back to the town of Wesel. We camped overnight behind a hall in Xanten, the first and last time I slept in a two-man tent. When the British guns started up, which was some five miles back, the guns kept blowing our metal tent pegs out of the ground. So Pip and I had to keep getting up to fix them. This firing went on from 10PM to 4AM. When I said this was the first and last time we used a tent, this was because we used any building that was standing. Also while in Xanten I met another R.E. who lived just across the road from my home in Farncombe. He was also one of the three who came back. Although when talking to Fred, he told me that the man had lost an eye later on.

I thought you might be interested in what we ate. Mostly compo rations. These comprised a wooden box; two feet square containing a day鈥檚 food for 14 men. Menu 鈥� All tins. Breakfast 鈥� Bacon, powder egg, porridge, bread and jam. Bread was brought up from mobile bakeries some way back. If no bread, there were always biscuits; something like a mix between a hard cracker and a dog biscuit. Okay with butter and jam. Lunch (known as Tiffin) 鈥� Bread or biscuits, Spam, corned beef, cheese (all tined) plus tea, of course. Dinner 鈥� Beans, soup, mashed potato, tin of meat and vegetable, tinned fruit, rice pudding or steamed pud. Also in this compo pack were some chocolate, boiled sweets, cigarettes and toilet paper. All a soldier could want! Under cover of darkness we cleared some mines and booby traps in a long avenue with trees on both sides, which finished at the Rhine. In the meantime, Commando/SAS had made it across in small boats and were having a hard time clearing the enemy by morning. The other bank was clear and the Germans troops had fallen back to Wesel. We now had the opportunity to start building a bailey bridge across the river that would allow tanks and heavy transport to advance. Because the riverbanks were low, the bridge had to be built on pontoons, large wooden ones six feet by twenty-five feet. At about 9AM as we were constructing, the airborne divisions of 6th British and 17th American flew over to drop bombs on Wesel. Wonderful sight. Hundreds of planes and gliders and about 1,200 paras. A great feeling knowing we were now really in Germany and the war could not last much longer.

Jill has asked me to write about my thoughts. To be honest, I don鈥檛 remember having any; sounds crazy, but I think one just got on with it and each day blended with the next. We had been very well trained and were just doing what we had to do. The company was very good and experienced and I was accepted as one of them. I did have a speciality. I owned a small but very sharp penknife and when bridging you get steel splinters in your hands. When this happened I would get the call, 鈥淭omo, get this out my hand.鈥� So I used to dig them out.

After the bridge was completed, we stayed on the pontoons with boat hooks as the Germans floated mines fixed to wooden planks down the river hoping to destroy our wonderful bridge. Very thoughtless! Anyway, we managed to get them out before it caused any trouble. This was also the first and last time we were strafed by a jet fighter. It was a prototype, very fast and noisy. It was going so fast that all the bullets and canon shells passed over us and the bridge. After a few days we moved on to Wesel which was a real mess after being shelled and bombed and cleared by the airborne 鈥� rubble and fires everywhere. If you want my thoughts, it was, 鈥淲ell now you are getting some of the same!鈥�

We then became attached to the American Airborne Division and moved on to a small town called Dulmen and for two or three days stayed in farm buildings. This town was also burning as the advance troops etc had only just gone through. It was a very eerie feeling as it was just getting dark - What with the crackling of fires and the sound of gunfire a mile or so ahead. Anyway, thinking of all this has reminded me of an incident that happened in Dulmen. Our section, about ten to twelve men, were walking down a small road keeping a sharp eye out for any trouble, when a person appeared waving his arms about. First thought was a German trap etc. But he was a Polish man dressed in a striped cotton jacket and pants, very much like old style pyjamas. In his limited English he seemed to be saying there were some Germans hiding in some of the undamaged houses. He gave me the impression of being a bit crazy. Anyway, the NCO of the section told him to go, which he did after we gave him some chocolate and cigarettes. I think he had escaped from some sort of detention camp. Anyway, back to the facts. We turned a corner into a road with some very nice large houses. We looked in some of them, which were damaged, and some that were not. In one very large house, while some looked downstairs 鈥� I, the NCO and two other men started up the very wide staircase. I was in the centre with the NCO and a very jumpy Yorkshire soldier on the other side. As we were walking up the stairway I heard some movement at the top of the landing. By this time we were all very edgy, I had my finger on the trigger of my rifle and as I took one more step up I pressed the trigger. Well, if you have fired a 303 service rifle in an enclosed area, the noise is extremely loud. The Yorkshire man jumped clean over the banister onto the next landing. The NCO thought I had been shot and spread himself against the wall. By then I had reloaded and the others realised what had happened. Nobody seems to have worried, only me. Thinking about it later, how lucky it was that I was first and not behind some poor soldier.

We made it up the stairs and the movement I had heard was a wardrobe door moving in the breeze. The only thing was, if I had not been in the front, I sure would not have had my finger on the trigger. Just self-preservation I guess. Later that night I was on guard at the farmhouse about 2AM to 4AM. The other man, who should have been with me, had got drunk on some wine they had found in one of the houses. So I was on my own, not wanting to make a fuss after my problems with the on the stairs. This as you will all remember is about the horse coming down the lane in the dark and every time I called out 鈥淲ho鈥檚 there?鈥� the silly thing stopped, then moved on until I could see it. Not my best day. Still, all part of the life we were leading. The only good thing that came out of the stair performance was a proven willingness to shoot if you have to, which of course is something you always wonder if you will have the guts to do!

The US 17th airborne platoon was dug in around the town. I think they were experiencing a counter attack. But I believe the 6th Pancer Division etc had moved back to Munster and maybe even further. We were quite happy not to see them! We moved into Munster, quite a large town, joining up with the 6th Guards Armoured. We had to blow a few houses down to fill up the large craters caused by our planes鈥� bombing. This allowed tanks of the 6th Guards to move on. Quite a lot of fires and damage here! Moving on to Detmold and in an area between Dortmums and Handover. By now the advance was very quick and mostly tank and infantry, so my company 503 RE was withdrawn back to Holland, to a small town called Ommen.

By now it was the end of April 1945, a week or so later the war ended in May 6th to 8th 1945. We were living in a wooden building, it could have been a scouts鈥� hut 鈥� I don鈥檛 know. The poor Dutch people were in a sorry state and we exchanged cigs for fresh eggs and any spare food we had. We did not have much to do except build the odd bridge or so. By the end of May, the high command had come to some arrangement with the now prisoners of the German 1st airborne division to help clear the mines etc along the Dutch coast as they were the ones who had laid them in1941-42. If they had did so, they would be the first to be released and sent home. So we were the lucky ones who had to check what they did and then at the end of each day blow up the mines they had found.

But before this started the company travelled up the coast from Den Helder to Leeuwarden, Friesland and by landing craft to the islands on Texel and Terschelling to check their fortifications. These islands were not mined and after a few days we returned to the mainland and went to a pleasant town called Leeuwarden, which was part of the 1st Canadian鈥檚 area. For the first time ever I had pancakes with maple syrup 鈥� very exotic! We then came back down to Holland to start the mine clearing with the German 1st AA Division, working between Haarlem and Den Helder, known as Noord Holland. We did not have to pick up their mines ourselves, only blow them up at the end of the day. We had them stacked in a pile of 50 etc, and then when everyone was accounted for and returned to transport I returned to each pile, set fuses after checking there were no odd ones that had not been destroyed. We worked one of us to ten Germans who were mostly okay. One of these men was a sergeant, a fine looking man who had been in the German army for about ten years. His English was very good and we used to talk, quite a lot about all things. Unfortunately his family was in East Germany under Russian control and he was very concerned about them. After two or three weeks he became very down and must have made his mind to end his life. Some of the mines were made up in wooden boxes full of explosives called Toelite, which I used to set light to in large amounts, otherwise it would just burn. All the detonators, which is the part that explodes, and the mines were collected and I used to destroy them separately as they are very unpredictable. I was watching this sergeant walking up with a box of detonators when suddenly he walked to the fire and poured them on. Well, there was one hell of a bang and he just blew to pieces. Very sad to destroy ones self; things might have worked out?! Such a nice man too. This, of course, upset the prisoners so we packed up for the day and I blew up the mines we had picked up that day. I then went to look for his body, but only found little bits, except for a leg. Not a good day. After that we made the prisoners stack things a good distance from each other.

So during the summer we worked all the way along the Dutch coast, stopping at small towns for a few weeks then moving on to another. One of the best and prettiest towns was Alkmaar. It has a very large town square in which on some days has a large cheese market. Very colourful. This area seemed to be better off, probably due to most people growing their own market gardens. They seemed to be short of cigarettes, coffee and bicycle tyres.

We slowly worked our way up the coast until by September we were in Groningen, which is in the very north of Holland and close to the German border. It was here that I had my closest brush with death. Sounds dramatic doesn鈥檛 it? I will try to tell you what happened. We were clearing the beach just inside the seawall which was littered with teller mines. These are large mines about 12 to 14 inches across and about two kilos in weight, used to blow up tanks and transport. Built in the sand dunes were large blockhouses and pillboxes made of reinforced concrete many feet thick, made to defend the coastline. It had become very difficult to find any open ground in which to blow up the mines when stacked. So I came up with the idea to stack the mines in lots of 50 in the pillboxes and kill two birds with the one stone. (Thinks 鈥� maybe that is not a good term.) Anyway, the Germans dismantled the main fuses and then carried the mines into the pillboxes where I checked the number and set a fuse, cleared the area and blew them up. This seemed to work very well until about 1PM which was lunchtime. The cook arrived with sandwiches for the Germans and some coffee, which I took down the track to them. Before walking back to the trucks to have my lunch with the cook, I told the Germans not to start stacking any more mines until I came back, thinking that it would be a good break for them and me. After finishing lunch and having a smoke I started to walk back, as I did there was an almighty explosion. It appears one of the men, seeing me walking down the path picked up a mine with the fuse still in, walked to the pill box, tripped and dropped the mine onto the concrete and up it went 鈥� Also him! I ran down there to see if anyone else was hurt but it was only the one man. It was not a pretty sight, bits and pieces of him everywhere. Just lucky for me that I had not walked any faster to the bunker! So that finished the day and that was also when the Germans had come to the end of their work.

On a lighter note, while we were in Groningen the OC had some beer sent up from Belgium, which was good for the men 鈥� except for one. One of our men named Johnny Mills, when he had a few beers, became very nasty. He was also an amateur boxer. He would just pick on one person and want to fight with them. Usually by that time he was hardly able to stand, which was just as well. But it makes me think of taking some precautions, just in case my turn came up.

We moved in from the coast to Hoogeveen and Emmen, both nice little towns, to remove some blockhouses that had been set up as defences by the German army. Removing these was more difficult as you cannot just blow them up. So we had to drill holes and put small charges in, taking off small bits at a time. Next, down to Maastricht. Then three days leave to Brussels, which was a very nice change. I must tell you of a very non-English thing that happened. We were in a caf茅 in the main street and I had to go for a pee! The toilets were down the stairs, and while doing what needed to be done, a lady about fifty years came in with a cheery, 鈥淏on Jour鈥� and started polishing the brass pipes. All of us English, old fashioned men were very amused. Sounds funny now, but very shocking then!

By then it was November and we moved to Liege in South Belgium. A very old city and we were using an old church hall as accommodation. We were there to dismantle a bailey bridge built by one of the RE companies during the war and no longer needed as the Belgians had relined the road and built a permanent bridge. I might tell you, it is much easier to build than dismantle. At the end of the lane where we were living was a very pleasant caf茅/bar. So most evenings were spent there, which is where I developed my taste for cognac. They also had a dartboard and, as it was now November and cold in the evening, it was very nice to have somewhere to go.

One night Johnny Mills turned up half drunk as usual and started to upset Josie, the owners鈥� daughter and barmaid. He became very difficult and as I had two or three cognacs I must have felt brave! So I told him to, 鈥淧ack it up and go somewhere else鈥�. This did not go down well with J Mills. He said, 鈥淐ome outside or I will start on you in here!鈥� I thought - here comes trouble for me. So we started towards the door with J Mills leading and then, talk about a bit of luck, he tripped on the outside step and fell on his face in the lane, which was cobbled. He knocked himself out for a minute or two. I helped him up and we walked back to the church hall, me cold sober and he half-dazed. Lucky for me. He fell onto his bed and was asleep in no time. Next day someone told him I had helped him. He thanked me and did not remember anything! Just as well for me!

About this time I had received a letter from my dear old mate Fred North, who was stationed in Hamburg saying he had leave for the UK and was going to marry Kath and could I get leave to be his best man? I went to see our OC and showed him the letter and asked if it would be possible for me to have leave also. He asked when I had joined the 503 company. I told him February 鈥� it was now November. He said, 鈥淵es. Take ten days.鈥� So that was great. Two or three days later I was taken by jeep to Calais and sailed to Dover, then train to London and Farncombe. Mum and Dad were very pleased to see me. I then went up to Fred鈥檚 home and we talked half the night. It was great to see him again. I always feel as if he is the brother I never had and a wonderful mate. The wedding went off very well and the happy couple had a few days in Portsmouth I think. Although it had been six months, food was still very scarce and was to be for some years to come.

The ten days soon went and I was on the way back. When I arrived at Calais, the RTO (being the Regimental Transport Officer) informed me that my company had left Belgium and gone back to Germany. In that case, you move from transit camp to transit camp until you get close enough to your own company to be picked up by your own guys. I arrived back at Recklinghausen, a small town between two mountains. We had nothing to do and I think we were waiting for Christmas before they intended to disband the whole of the 503 company. Quite a lot of the men were due for demob. It depended on your age and service. So if you were 23 to 30 years old and had served for five to six years - demob was close. Others like me had at least two to three years to serve. After the Christmas party the company was disbanded with most of the older men going home to the UK.

I and one other man were sent to Dieppe in northern France. It was now January 1946, very cold and not much to do. The company was a mixed bag of soldiers from all over. Very boring and Dieppe at that time was a bit of a dump. There was in the town a NAFFI canteen for all troops. This helped pass the evenings. After six weeks, I was transferred to Paris, which, as you can imagine was very nice. Again, nothing to do as far as work was concerned, which gave me time to explore the city, which was, by the way, undamaged. There was a very large NAFFI canteen just off Madeline and also a cinema for use by the US forces and ourselves. So it was a good posting! But after four or five weeks, six of us were sent to the south of France to Toulon. It was now April and lovely weather. There were, of course, no tourists so we had the place to ourselves. Quite a large town with a big population. We were billeted in an old villa on a hill above the town. Again a mixed bag of men. I only knew four of them who had been in Paris. There was a hospital that had been damaged and the platoon of about 40 men was sent to help repair it. It was all very laid back and an easy life. Twenty of us used to go to work and the other twenty used to go to the beach. Very nice. In the six months I was there it rained about four or five times. Talk about the good life 鈥� Six months of sea, sand and tan. A further bonus was the cook, who really was a cook in civvy life. He looked after us very well. Lovely pastry with half peaches on top as snacks. During the evening there were a lot of good men and all went well. We used to go to all sorts of beaches; Le Seyme/Hyeres (Cavalier sur Mer) was like something out of a film set - a sweeping bay, deep blue water and pure yellow sand. But like all good things, too soon came to an end and in October 1946 we were all sent to Calais. Talk about cold, after the south of France and back to wearing battle-dress after wearing semi tropical gear in Toulon.

I got some leave and went back to the UK for 14 days then back to Calais to live in converted rail carriages in a siding. We worked on removing fittings, such as steps and handrails from rail tankers that were filled with rocket fuel for the German V2 sub continental rockets. Many hundreds of which fell on London and districts, many Croydon. I think a lot of these tankers were shipped to the UK. We also worked on the docks doing repairs etc. On two occasions George Higgins had come over from the Isle of Man and I went to Brussels to escort more of the loaded tankers back to Calais. All very boring! So I spent from October 1946 to October 1947 in Calais. On my 21st birthday George and four other men took me to a small back street caf茅 for a good meal and wine, plus of course a French piano accordion player 鈥� Very continental!

So thinking back, I had my 19th birthday in Ommen one month after the war ended, my 20th in the south of France and 21st in Calais. Well, you can see I have not written very much about the last year or so, because there is not a lot to say about it. One was really only waiting for demob. In October 1947 all of our group numbers 62 (this was my service and age) were sent back to the UK. All the REs sent to the big depot at Barton Stacey in Hampshire. In mid November I was demobbed, sent to Woking for civilian clothes and a railway warrant to Farncombe and that was it. Three years and five months service. I received 拢30 and three service medals and put on the Z Reserve that meant if there was another outbreak of war in which the British army was involved I could be called up again. By the time the Korean War started I was 24 year old and instead of me they sent the poor lads from National Service. Pay was three shillings a day until January1946, then five shillings a day. I think we were the lowest paid army of all. The US, Canadian, NZ and Australian forces were paid much more.

So what did I learn?
How to strangle someone with piano wire. How to use a knife and where to place it. How to use and fire a pistol, rifle, stem gun, Thompson submachine gun and a Brem gun. How to find, life and dismantle six types of mines. How to use plastic explosives, gun cotton and many types of fuses.
How to build a road, starting with the Roman way with big rocks to medium rocks to small and keep it straight. How to build a cordroy road, that is, a road made of branches and small logs on wet fields etc. How to build bridges from the high types to pontoon river types. Also how to blow them down 鈥� Much better fun!
How to take orders and carry them out. How to use your common sense and how to avoid trouble if possible. How to get on with a very mixed bag of men and not to expect that everyone thinks like you.

I made a lot of good friends but no really close friends. I think that the British soldiers in those days 1939-1945 were very independent men. We, in 503 Field Company RE were very lucky, as I do not remember us losing anyone. Everybody knew what was expected and I think we were very well trained. We did what we had to do and got on with it.

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