World War II Memoirs by James Scott

On September 3^rd, 1939, the British Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain addressed the nation at 3:00 p.m. on the radio or wireless, as it was called in those days. Unfortunately, our battery or accumulator was run down, so with my parents I listened to the broadcast in a neighbour’s house.  The Prime Minister said that a state of war existed now with Germany.  My mother, who had been through World War I and the lady of the house, started to cry and I’ll never forget my father standing up and saying not to worry, as we will beat Germany in 6 months.  How could he have been so wrong as it was to last 6 years!  After hearing my father saying it would be over in 6 months, I felt so depressed as I had just turned 16 and I wouldn’t get to fight for my country. 

Britain now prepared for war and all lights had to be covered and the blackout was introduced.  Air raid wardens patrolled the streets and if even a chink of light showed through the blinds at the windows he would be at your door and warn you to fix it or you would be in big trouble.  We were warned not to light a cigarette in the street and although we could use a torch, it must always shine on the ground.  Civilian units were formed such a A.R.P. (Air Raid Precautions, N.F.S. (National Fire Services), RCA (Red Cross Auxiliary), S.P. (Special Constables) and many more but these were the main units and this helped to free men and woman for the forces.

The Sunday after war was declared, I went down to the Glasgow Royal Infirmary filling sand bags to help protect the emergency ward.  It was warm work and the nurses came round with barley and lemon water to quench our thirst.

We lived in a tenement, like an apartment building and beside us there was a large park with soccer pitches.  These pitches were dug down to make trenches and covered over with corrugated iron, to help the people escape the blast, if bombs were dropped nearby.  If it was a direct hit it was bye-bye!  They were damp, wet and cold.

Nothing happened for a few months and occasionally the air raid siren would go off and all the people would rush to the shelters until they heard the all clear.

The first time it really hit me about war was on a Saturday at noon, when I was in a tram car coming home from my work.   Argyle Street was packed with people and the newspaperman selling papers was shouting the H.M.S. Hood had been sunk with heavy casualties.  We learned later that about 2000 men had been killed and only about half a dozen were safe.  The conductress on the tram went almost hysterical crying that her brother was on that ship.  The Hood had been hit by a bomb that went down to the magazine, where all the shells and explosives were kept and the whole ship exploded.

The next part of the war took place when the British and French were stationed behind the Maginot Line, which was a fortified position opposite the Seifrieg line, occupied by the Germans.  The Germans made the next move invading Holland and Belgium, where there was no defense and where the Panzer divisions came through unopposed.  In no time the British troops were trapped and fought their way to Dunkirk, where they escaped by boat to Britain.  This was carried out by all sorts of ships with a successful evacuation of most of the troops.  My uncle was captured at Dunkirk and a prisoner of war until hostilities ceased.

I do not intend to give you the history of World War II, but simply what happened to me.

After the evacuation of the British Expeditionary Force, as it was called, the country prepared for a German invasion, which everyone thought was likely to come.

A civilian force was formed called the L.D.V. (Local Defense Volunteers) and for this, I volunteered and although we were very serious at drills, we had no rifles and drilled with broom handles.  After a while, the name was changed to the Home Guard, where we did sentry duty once a a week from dusk to dawn and did schemes and drills etc. at the weekends and sometimes to Maryhill barracks, for bayonet drill where a regular army sergeant took charge.   We were also taught to make “Molotov cocktails” to be used against tanks.  They were simply ordinary bottles filled three-quarters full of gasoline with a piece of rag sticking out of the top of the bottle, which was also dipped in gasoline.  The idea was that if a tank was near, you had to light the rag and throw the bottle at the front of the tank, which could blind the driver and set the tank on fire.  It was a dangerous thing to do as the person throwing the bottle had to be very fast, as the bottle could explode. 

Eventually, we were issued with an army uniform and joked that the sizes were either too big or too wee.  My uniform was on the too big side but my chum Tom’s father was a tailor, so my uniform was then made to fit.  After a period a delivery of rifles were allocated to ex-servicemen, who were in the previous war, so I was in a bit of a snit because I didn’t get a rifle, so I told the sergeant that if I didn’t get a rifle in the next issue, I would quit.  I was given a rifle on the next issue, which was full of grease and it must have been in storage for years.

In no time, I had that rifle spotless and our cap badge was ‘The Highland Light Infantry’ and a famous Glasgow regiment.  The first time I fired a rifle on a shooting range, the sergeant of the range told me to make sure the bolt of the rifle was securely down, as being left-handed in shooting, it could break my jaw with the recoil.  As instructed, I held the rifle tight against my shoulder for the recoil when fired.  After 20 rounds my shoulder was quite sore and when I returned home, I checked and found that the metal part of my braces had been against my shoulder and caused a bruise with the kickback.

As I said, we went on guard once a week all night and between the seven sentries, we had 5 bullets issued each but never to be loaded in the rifle and to be returned to the armory in the morning.  I was in the Templeton H.G. but asked to be transferred to my chum Tom’s unit, which was nearer to my home and not only that, but I knew most of the men or I should say boys as most of us were under 18 years of age.

I’ll break there, as I forgot to mention we moved house to Possilpark in 1940, where we had our own garden planted with vegetables and my father made a hen run, as we bought a dozen chickens, as eggs were very scarce.  We also got an Anderson Air Raid shelter, which was dug into the ground and covered with earth.  My father put in a small coal fire and 2 bunks for sleeping and it was fairly comfortable.  There was a railway line at the bottom of our garden.

To continue about the Home Guard.  Our headquarters were in the middle of a wood in an old abandoned house and on a dark night it could be quite eerie.   One of the sentries had a very bad impediment in his speech and stuttered all the time as he talked.  One night Tom and another couple on duty went for a walk in the woods.  It rapidly got very dark, so as John who was on duty at his post and being a very nervous person, we decided to creep through the woods and give him a scare. We lay still as we heard him say hhhhhalt wwwwwho ggggoes ttthhheere.  The next second he fired his rifle and the bullet hit a tree just above Tom’s head.  We jumped immediately and blasted him saying he should have said halt, who goes there three times before firing.   He said when I say it once; it is like three times when I am finished.  We never scared John again!

 One night our corporal did not show up and when the orderly officer turned up for inspection, he said that one of us had to be an acting N.C.O. (Non commissioned Officer), so we suggested Ronnie, as his father used to be a regular army soldier.  At midnight the guard was called out for the officers inspection and when he left, we lay down on some straw and went to sleep.  He came round again about 4:00 a.m. to check on the guard and found us all sound asleep.  He ranted and raged at us saying that if we had been in the regular army, he could have had us all shot.  He put the fear of death in us and we joked after about Ronnie’s promotion at midnight and demotion at 4:00 a.m.  Nothing ever came of it but it taught us not to go to sleep on duty.

Both Tom and I were in the Boys Brigade and when we were not doing H.G. duties we were involved with the B.B., so our week was very full.

We had many air raids which were always scary, as you never knew where the bombs would land and lots of shrapnel from the anti-aircraft guns would rain down and could give you a nasty cut or worse if a piece landed on your head.  We always put on our tin helmets just in case.

The worst raid in Scotland was at Clydebank in Glasgow, where bombs were dropped among the houses and there were lots of civilian casualties.  Our company went down to help the next day and dig people out, who were trapped under the debris.  I had never seen a dead body before and for a few nights after; I found it difficult to sleep after seeing so many mangled bodies of men, women and children.

Some buildings were split in half and some still had ornaments on the mantelpieces over the fireplaces.  The blast had some weird effects.

 About April 1941, I went to the recruiting station and volunteered for the forces.  As I was only 17 years of age, the Sgt. Major said I was too young but if my parents gave special permission in writing on a form, I would be considered.  My parents would not sign the form, however, when I was 18 and on my way to work, I jumped off the tram at the recruiting office and joined the Navy, as a wireless operator or in the Navy as a telegraphist.

Early on a Friday morning in December that year, about 2:00 a.m. the doorbell rang and my father and I rose from our beds.  It was a telegram boy who handed a telegram to my Dad.  The only time a telegram was sent was if one of the family had died.  My father opened the envelope and said it was for me saying I had to be at the recruiting office at 9:00 a.m. the same day to be drafted and bring toilet accessories. 

I went down at 9:00 a.m. and told the Sgt. Major, I had to tell my company that I had been called up and they hadn’t given me any warning or time to do that. The Sgt. Major glowered at me and said that my country needed me now and if I didn’t go immediately, I would be taken off the volunteer list. I told him to go ahead as I wanted a job when the war was over.  I called his bluff and he said he would give me special permission to be at his office 9:00 Monday morning!

I went into the office feeling as proud as punch and when I got home told my mother and father I had joined the Royal Navy.  They were not happy but my father said that he knew I would join up.

On the Saturday we had a few friends over to the house and my Uncle David asked me if I had a watch, which I did not have, so he took his watch off his wrist and gave it to me.  All who came brought a gift and I finished up with about 6 writing pads with envelopes and 3 money belts.

Then Monday morning arrived when I had to be at the recruiting office for 9:00 a.m.  My mother was in tears and my father and I had to swallow a few times and this I can understand.   I was only 18 years of age and joining the forces with the war and dangers to be faced, there was a chance that I could be wounded or killed.  Fortunately, I was lucky, in fact, very lucky, as you will read later.

I arrived at the recruiting office and received the King’s shilling and took the oath to serve King and Country, which meant I was now officially in the Royal Navy.  At the office, there were another 3 Scots from up north, Ginger, Adam and Mac, who became my friends.  We were given rail passes to a camp in Skegness, England and our train would leave Central Station in Glasgow to Edinburgh, where we changed again for Skegness.  The train left at 6:00 p.m. and I just couldn’t face going home and leaving again, so I phoned Tom to meet me at the station and spent the rest of the day at 3 different movies.  I met my new friends at the station and we were on our way.  As we were traveling overnight, the train stopped at a station so we quickly jumped off and into the café for a quick cup of tea.  I happened to look out and see the train moving so we had to run and jump into the carriage.  Mac was too slow and missed the train.  All his gear and coat were in the compartment, which we took with us to the camp in Skegness, which was called H.M.S. Gloucester.  Mac arrived later that day with an old coat someone had given him and we gave him his belongings.

We were allocated to summer chalets and in each, there was a wash hand basin, a double bed with boards nailed up the middle, so 2 could share and a single bed.  The weather was very cold and all the water pipes in the chalets were frozen solid, so the only place to wash was in the washroom and in the middle of the floor was a brazier burning coke.  It was the only place that was warm and all the guys went around it to get some heat and when I squeezed in to get warm, someone said ‘something’s burning’. When I looked down, the knee of my pants was burning.  What a panic as I could put my knee through the hole, however, I managed to get a tailor to put in a patch for 3 pennies and I was able to wear my repaired pants. 

To get back to the first day, we were put into a class and all recruits were marched to the clothing store, where we were issued with our uniforms, kit bag and a hammock.  We had no idea how the uniform went on and the chief Petty officer went through it step by step.

We really looked a bunch of lulu’s and apologies for sailors.  We were then marched to the medical room and given needles, which were very painful, as the needles were re-used and sharpened, when really blunt.  The inoculation caused ones arm to swell up and it was very painful for 24 hours.  The army and air force were given 24 hours excused duty, but not the Royal Navy; we had to keep going in spite of the sore arm.    We were then marched to an empty hall with 4 barber chairs and everybody had their haircut and as they would say in Scotland “it was a rumper”.  In Canada “a brush cut”, with plenty of scissor marks.  Next we went to another part of the camp to be photographed for our pay book.  My number, P/JX341309 was chalked on a black piece of board to be held across my chest.

As I was ready to have my photo taken, the Petty officer shouted me to get that so and so smile off my face.  When I received my pay book with picture, it looked as though someone had jagged my rear end with a pin. The photo was anything but complimentary.

Skegness was a recruitment camp and very disciplined, so we were on the go all the time with marching and rifle drills.

The Petty officer in charge of our class told us that we would be getting lots of drills and marching and it would be his suggestion that we had studs on the soles of our boots. He then told us he would put studs on our boots for, I think, 6 pence.  That seemed to be his sideline for extra money.

The regular staff in the training camp were called ‘Ships Company’ and they were entitled to a tot of navy rum every day.  Our P.O. would march us to where the rum was issued and get his tot and come out with a smile on his face licking his lips.  I think that was the only time we saw him smile.

Being in the home guard, I knew all the rifle drills but some of the class never had a rifle in their hand and the drill Petty officer was pretty hard on them.  There was one poor guy who came from Burnley in England who dropped his rifle.  The P.O. blasted him and we couldn’t help but smile when he said, “sorry I dropped my gun”.  That was another blast for him as it’s not a gun but a rifle.  That poor guy was in trouble all the time he was in Skegness and I will tell about some of his problems.  By the way we called him ‘Burnley’.

On my second day in camp I heard a bugle blowing at 4:00 p.m. so I looked out the chalet door and saw everyone running.  I wondered what was happening and when I came round the corner, everyone was at attention and on parade.  This unknown to me was what was called ‘Evening Quarters’ and the bugle call was the alarm to action stations.  I tried to sneak into my class but a warrant officer saw me and bawled out at the pitch of his voice “what did you do to shoot down that plane”?  Me, in my innocence, said, I didn’t shoot down any plane sir”.  That caused a chuckle in the ranks but I was given a real dressing down.

The next morning on parade, we were again inspected and the same warrant officer stopped me and asked if I had shaved.  I told him that I had not so I had to report to him at lunchtime shaved.  This I did and again got another dressing down and was told I had to shave every day.  The next morning on parade, he again stared at me and asked if I had shaved.  With tongue in cheek, I said that I did not as there was no hair on my face to shave.  He just smiled and walked away.  I only needed to shave about twice a week at that time.

The weather was very cold and icy with occasional snow and we were not allowed to put up our coat collar or to wear gloves.  We did drill most of the time and once a week, we had to climb a ladder and onto the roof, during the night for a 2-hour firebomb watch, in case the German planes dropped any incendiary bombs on the camp.  Fortunately, this did not happen during my 5-week stay.

One day it snowed and at the camp, which incidentally used to be a summer holiday camp, there was an outdoor skating rink.  We were given brushes and shovels and for a full day we had to sweep off the snow. When we reached one end of the rink, we had to continuously sweep to the other end.  Another thing we had to do was get into a lifeboat, which was tied at bow and stern, in the swimming pool.  The oars were long and the blades had a number of holes to take away the pressure of the water when we were rowing.  It was still heavy work and after rowing and going nowhere, we had a few blisters on our hands.

Burnley’s second boo-boo happened later on that week when the warrant officer ordered him to stand in front of the parade and ridiculed him in front of all.  Our letters were censored and one was forbidden to mention the weather, where you were, what you were doing and anything regarding the forces. Well in a loud voice, he told us that this rating had written home to his Mummy telling her he was sweeping snow off an outdoor rink and he had not been given any wireless instruction since he arrived.  The warrant officer was so sarcastic to Burnley and we all felt so sorry for him.  Periodically we had to climb up a ladder to the roof in the camp to fire watch and the first time and only time I had to do it, Burnley was with us. It was getting dark when we climbed on the roof and I would say it would be about 6:00 p.m.  We did a 2-hour fire watch and were then relieved, but it was pitch black and Burnley was too scared to go down the ladder.  We tried everything to get him to come down but with no success. A Petty Officer, after trying to get him to come down, told him he could stay there all night and he would be on a charge in the morning for refusing to obey an order.   I don’t know what happened to him as I never saw him again.   The Chief Petty Officers were very strict and to use the expression “never off our backs”.  One of the C.P.O.’s had an often repeated question which was “Why did you every join the Navy?”  To his question were various replies, such as “I don’t know, I must have been daft” or another I heard was “no food in the house”.  In those days everything was rationed, so when I had that question posed to me I said,  “I run out of clothing coupons Chief”.  No reply, just a dirty look.

Discipline was really tough and we had to jump to all commands.  I would never like to go through anything like that again and I believe my 5 weeks there was the worst weeks I spent during the war.

We had to also learn the naval expressions on a ship, where the floor was the deck, walls the bulkheads,  corridors the companionway, deckhead the ceiling, toilet the heads, dining hall the mess etc. etc.

After our discipline course we were drafted to different wireless colleges, some to Aberdeen, Dundee and Glasgow.  I was lucky and drafted to Glasgow and billeted at my own house, while the rest of the class were billeted in an old hospital.  My 3 friends were sent to Aberdeen.  At that time my rank was ordinary telegraphist and my pay was 21 shillings per week.  I had the navy deduct 5 shillings per week to my mother.  That left me with 16 shillings or converted to today’s exchange rate, about1.25 dollars per week. With me billeted at home, my mother received 30 shillings per week, which helped out.

At the wireless college, I was taught the Morse code and how to transmit on the wireless set.  It was no bother to me and eventually, I could take down morse at a speed of 26 words per minute.  It was as fast as I could write but in all tests, I had always top marks. 

One day another telegraphist and I were walking along the main street when we saw a naval picket (police) on the other side of the road.  The Petty Officer blew his whistle and came across the road with 4 seamen and asked for our pay books, in which there was a photo.  He then told me I was on a charge as my respirator (gas mask) was hung over my shoulder instead of across my chest.  For punishment, I lost 3 days pay and I had to scrub a ward in the hospital for 2 hours per day for 3 days.

After 3 months of training, I was drafted to Doonfoot, outside the town of Ayr and then met up with my 3 pals from Aberdeen.  Again it was another holiday camp, but this time the weather was much kinder.

One day about 4:00 p.m., we were going for tea, accompanied by Ginger, Mac and Adam, we passed close to a squad of W.R.E.N.S. being drilled by a Chief Petty Officer.  The C.P.O. has brought them to attention and for a laugh, I said softly for they’re ears only “One teeny weenie pace forward march”.  I didn’t think the C.P.O. would hear me but he made us join in with the W.R.E.N.S. and we drilled along with them.  It was very embarrassing and to make matters worse, we missed our tea. 

After another 2 months of training we had a test and we all did well and certified as S.S.S., which meant suitable for small ships, where we could be trusted alone.  All the poorer marks went to Battleships cruisers and destroyers where they would be under supervision.  We now received our telegraphy badge, which was the world with wings and a lightening bolt across it.  We used to say it was a flying ball of “poo” struck by lightning or words to that effect”.

The four of us volunteered for a new division of the navy called Combined Operations and we received a badge with an anchor, Tommy gun and wings, which represented the 3 services, navy, army and air force. 

The four of us were sent to a place in England called Petersfield for a few days and told we would be joining landing craft.  At last we would be getting drafted to a ship, as we thought and we were eventually sent to Southampton.  This would be about the end of August and when we arrived, we were told the landing craft had sailed, much to our disappointment but we learned the next morning, the Canadian and British Troops had landed at Dieppe.

As you probably know, the Germans were aware of the landing and the Canadians and British suffered very heavy casualties and had to withdraw, leaving many soldiers behind, who were taken prisoner.  The landing was to be in the form of a raid and quick withdrawal but unfortunately, that was not the case.

The next camp we went to was an air-sea rescue base, which belonged to the air force. This base was in Calshot, about 15 miles from Southampton at the south of England.  This was a terrible camp as the air force officers and the navy officers did not get along and it reflected on us.  There were only 4 of us telegraphists and we had to learn all the meanings of the navy flags and for this we were in an air force hanger all day with no heating.  I managed to get a cushy number i.e. an easy job and had to take a satchel from the camp down a narrow road with the sea on either side to the end of the spit, as it was called, to a radio station.  I did this 3 times a day and was given a bicycle.  One night there was a heavy fog coming from the sea and as I had no light, which would not have made any difference, I peddled my way through the pea-soup thick fog.  I didn’t see the end of the pier and went over into the sea, bicycle and all.  The sea was very deep and when I came to the surface, I couldn’t make out the end of the pier and swam until I felt mud underneath. I had no idea where the land was.  Well, it turned out to be thick mud and I had to crawl on my hands and knees until I came to the road.  I then walked back to the signal office, with no hat or bicycle, covered in mud and soaking wet.  I was issued with another coat and hat the next day.  In all the times I was in action and in danger, I think that was my nearest brush with death, as it was only pure luck I swam in the right direction.  When I look back and think of the mess I was in, it must have been quite funny when I walked into the billet and did I ever get a teasing from my pals.   From that point my good luck deserted me as I took a short cut through this garden and it belonged, unknown to me, to the RAF officer in charge of the camp.  For that I lost 7 days pay and leave and had to report to the guardroom ½ an hour before the camps reveille bugle went. At lunchtime I had to do a ½ hour drill and after tea did 2 hours of cleaning or washing up and at 8:00 p.m. I had to parade at the guardroom for inspection by the officer of the day.  That was a very tough punishment to get.

I should have mentioned earlier, when we first arrived at Calshot, we were given 10 days leave and after being paid, somebody suggested we play a card game called “Pontoon”, which is the British name for “Blackjack”.

The first person to draw a jack would be the banker or dealer.  I had about 25 shillings and in the first hand to cover all the bets, I paid out all my pay.  In the game, I was over 21 and lost all my money.

As my leave pass started from Southampton, I had to sell a pair of socks a for 6 pence for my bus far to Southampton, leaving me with no money.

Arriving in Glasgow about 6:00 a.m., I boarded a tram or trolley car and when the conductress asked for my fare, I said I was skint (broke).  She laughed saying it was ok and did I want a cigarette.  I thanked her and told her I had plenty of cigarettes but no money.

My father gave me some money and when my leave was finished, he gave me a pound note, telling me not to spend it unless it was an emergency.  I put that pound note in the corner of my money belt and although there were many times I was short of cash, I never used it.

Later we were granted leave again to be back at camp on January 1^st, which meant we had to leave Glasgow on Hogmanay, which is a great celebration in Scotland, to bring in the New Year.  The 4 of us decided there was no way we were leaving on Hogmanay so we agreed to meet in the Union Jack club in London and take the consequences.  Adam was missing and we thought he had chickened out and gone back to Calshot on time.  We found later that both his parents had been killed in a car accident in Lossiemouth, where he lived.  However, not knowing this, we left London for Southampton to get the bus to Calshot.  We passed a movie theatre and Ginger said that they were showing a good movie, so we said that we may as well get hung for a sheep as a lamb and we went in to see the movie. We then left Southampton in the bus to Calshot and reported to the guardhouse and were charged with being 24 hours adrift, as the navy calls it.  We were put on the commander’s report to be charged the next morning.  We all received 7 days no. 11’s which was the punishment I had been given previously and as I said before, it was tough going.

The Petty officer, that was drilling us, just hated telegraphists and made it obvious.  We were drilling with rifles and he gave us the order to trail arms, which means you hold the rifle in one hand with your arm straight down.  He then gave the order to change arms by numbers, which means you bend your arm at the elbow and straight out in front. We did this and then he ordered us to double march, which is run.  I told him we were here for a drill not punishment and refused to do it. He then put me on the commander’s report listing a number of charges, I think the P.O. was in the wrong, however, much to my surprise, the commander let me off with a caution and said he did not ever want to see my face again.  I really thought I would go to the cells for disobeying an order, which could have happened.

We did our punishment and every morning there was a barrack inspection and nobody should be in the hut at that time.  We dodged going to the hanger this day and were in the hut.  As it was getting near inspection time, I said that I was getting out and going into the woods to be out of the way, as I had been in enough trouble.  I left and was in the woods enjoying the peace and quiet, when I heard a loud voice saying,  “come here that man”.  It was the commander again and he asked why I was here in the woods, which were out of bounds to all personnel.  I told him I came here so he wouldn’t catch me in the hut during inspection.  He shook his head and said that he didn’t know what to do with me.  I said to let me go and I’ll never be in front of you again.  All he said was “be off with you and you have made me a promise”.  As it was, we were drafted the next week to Braklesham Bay and I never saw him again.

Braklesham Bay was another very small holiday camp with only about 40 naval personnel and a Chief Petty Officer in charge.  There had been very heavy rain and most of the camp flooded with large puddles all over.  The week the four of us arrived; the Chief was in a panic, as he had just heard that the Admiral of the Western Approaches was to pay a visit to the camp.  Everybody was given jobs to cleanup and as there was to be a sentry at the gate, he asked for somebody who knew how to present arms, as that was a salute for an Admiral.  I volunteered as it would be a cushy number and the Chief instructed me to clean my boots, rifle and bayonet, which would be fixed on the rifle.  I had also to be carried to the duckboard in front of the sentry box because of the flooding and the mud would have messed up my clean boots.  Eventually, I was ready and carried to the sentry box awaiting the Admirals arrival.  He arrived with his entourage, consisting of a number of high-ranking officers.  The Chief met and saluted him at the gate and now it was my turn to give him ‘The Present Arms’.  I snapped quickly to attention, then to slope arms, which is the first part of the present.  As I lifted the rifle and bayonet to my shoulder, I only got so far as the bayonet was firmly stuck in the roof of the sentry box because the duckboard was placed too near.  I just got a dirty look from the Admiral and after he passed I managed to get the bayonet out of the roof and put the duckboard farther out, as to where it should have been.

When the party was leaving, I gave the Admiral ‘The Present Arms’ like a guardsman.  He returned my salute and in a very English voice said, “That’s better”.  The Chief told me it caused quite a chuckle by the Officers but to him it was not so funny.

At the camp I was wearing a pair of sneakers and saw a small piece of wood on the floor and kicked it and to my pain and surprise, found it has been nailed to the floor and I broke my big toe.

Later that week, the three of us went by bus to Chichester to a movie and on the way back to camp, a number of Canadian soldiers boarded our bus.  They had been having a good time and quite a few drinks.  As Mac and Ginger were sitting behind me together, one of the soldiers sat beside me.  He started talking and asked me where I lived but I was feeling tired and just wanted to sit in peace, as my toe was pretty sore.  Anyway, I said I lived in Glasgow and he told me he had returned from leave and had a great time.  He then asked me whereabouts in Glasgow or rather in what district was my home.  I was getting pretty fed up with all his questions, however, I said Possilpark.  He told me he had been in Possilpark and did I know a Mrs. Scott, in 80 Broadholm Street.  I nearly fell off my seat, as that was my address.  My Uncle Andy was in the Canadian Black Watch and was on leave, staying with my mother who was his sister.  Andy was downtown and met Buddy, which was his name and he invited him up to meet my mother.  He had supper with Andy and my parents and my Mother told him to bring his gear from the YMCA, as he could stay with them.  His leave was almost finished but he stayed with my folks for 2 or 3 days.  What a coincidence but I could not find out more as the bus was at our stop.

After we came to Canada, I had to go to Montreal on business and had supper with my cousin, Vernon and told him my story of how I met this Canadian on the bus and found he had spent a few days of leave with my folks in Glasgow.  Vernon then went to the telephone, dialing a number and said “Buddy, my cousin from Scotland is now living in Toronto and you met him on a bus in England and stayed for a few days with his parents when on leave”.  He was so happy to speak to me and we were on the phone for a long time.  He wanted me to meet his family but I had to leave the next morning for Toronto.  My visits to Montreal were always short and regretfully we never managed to meet.

We were then sent to Brighton for about a week and billeted in a large hotel on the front that had been taken over by the Royal Navy.  The hotel had been practically stripped clean and we slept in cots with about a dozen to a room.  One day all leave was cancelled and we had to get our gear ready to move.  We were marched to the Brighton railway station and into railway carriages, which were locked so nobody could get out.  We travelled overnight and in the morning we found we were in Scotland.

To my surprise, I found we were on the railway line that passed by the bottom of our garden in Possilpark.  The train was going quite slow and our next-door neighbour was in his garden.  I opened the window and shouted to him but he did not hear me because of the train noise.  This made me feel very depressed seeing my house and not knowing if, or when, or perhaps never, I would see it again.  We eventually arrived at Greenock and boarded a motorboat, which took us to a ship moored in the Clyde.  It was originally named ‘The Empress of Japan’ but was changed to the Empress of Canada, as we were at war with Japan.  When the 4 of us came on board, a Chief Petty Officer told us there was an Admiral on board and we had to take his luggage to his cabin.  This we did and what a lucky break for us it was.  Every morning, there was a deck parade and jobs were allocated, so when we were to be given a job, I would say that we were the Admiral’s luggage party and told to carry on.  We kept this up until the morning we were arriving in New York, when the Chief found out our scam. It was too late for him to do anything, so we missed doing any work on the trip to America.

 

To go back to where we had embarked on the Empress of Canada and did the Admiral luggage stint, we were sent below to our sleeping quarters or mess and there were hooks set up and hammocks for sleeping on.  There were all sorts in our mess being Army, RAF and Merchant Navy personnel.  We settled down and when I wakened in the morning, we were at sea and it was very rough.  There were so many in the mess being seasick and there was sick all over the tables and deck.  Ginger was first to throw up then Mac then Adam and although I didn’t feel very good, I kept eating dry biscuits.  The supper call came and as I hadn’t eaten all day, went to the dining room and was about to go in when my turn came to be sick, so that was the 4 of us all throwing up.  We were all fine the next day and past the time playing cards and talking.  It was too cold to go out on deck and still a pretty rough sea.

 

We had only 1 shilling between the 4 of us to spend, which would have only bought a packet of cigarettes.  Unknown to my pals, I still had the pound note, given to me by my father in my money belt but I would not use it. At one of the tables, some of the guys were gambling playing a game called banker, where the dealer placed 5 or 6 cards face down on the table and you put money on a card you thought might beat the dealer, as the dealer would get the next card and if it was lower than your card, you win and he would pay you the amount you had bet.  If his card were higher, you would lose.  I was very lucky as I played with the shilling and eventually won enough to keep the 4 of us till we arrived in New York.

 

The food on the ship was very good and especially the bread because during the war we did not get white bread as it was baked with a darker flour.

 

When we docked in the evening in New York, we were amazed at all the lights as there was a blackout in Britain.  It was very cold as we stood on the deck but fascinated with all the lights.

 

The next morning we disembarked and went to Union Station where we traveled to Asbury Park in New Jersey.  We were billeted in a hotel and for the first time, experienced central heating, which was kind of difficult for us to understand, as there was heavy snow outside and inside it was so warm.  This may sound strange to the reader but this was over 50 years ago and we had never experienced central heating, as we were only used to a coal fire and possibly in only one room in the house.

 

The dollar at that time was five dollars to the pound sterling, so our pay was three dollars per week.  I saved up and bought my mother a pair of silk stockings, as they were very scarce during the war and most of the young women painted their legs and had someone draw a line down the back of their leg, to make it look like a seam.  I also bought a doll for my cousin Norma, who would be about three at that time.

 

As I had relations in Montreal, I applied for leave and this was granted, with my leave to start at 1:00 p.m. the next day.  I had no idea how the get to Montreal but would try hitchhiking, as I had no money to travel.  The next morning I was packed to leave when the loud speaker announced that all telegraphists to report to the drafting office.  I didn’t bother going as I was going on leave.  My 3 pals came back from the drafting office and said I was drafted to L.C.I. (L). 120.  I thought they were teasing me but went to the office to see my name against Landing Craft 120.  I spoke to the Petty Officer who told me in no uncertain manner my leave was cancelled and did I think I was here on holiday.  I never did get to Canada.

 

We were then sent to a barracks in Brooklyn, New York for a few days and then we were trucked to various landing craft.  It was a bitter cold morning when I arrived at L.C.l (L) 120, to be greeted by a seaman on sentry duty at the gangway, telling me I would be doing the middle watch tonight.  He was the coxswain and was the same rank as myself, so I told him I did not do upper deck duties, as I was the telegraphist and to take a running jump to himself, or words to that effect.

 

He was furious and told me to come with him to see the officer, who was the Captain but only a sub lieutenant.  He shook my hand and welcomed me aboard and was surprised when the coxswain said that I had refused to do sentry duty.  The officer smiled and told him that telegraphists are known as the gentleman on the lower deck and their duties are only to signals and wireless.  This of course, was a joke about being gentlemen of the lower deck but wireless operators and signalmen work closely with the officers and generally knew where the ships destination would be and when the ship would sail. 

 

We had only one officer on board but were joined later by another, which was the full complement of two officers to a landing craft.  The full crew was 2 officers, 6 stokers, 1 motor mechanic, 1 electrician, 7 seamen and 1 telegraphist/ signalman.  My landing craft L.C.I.(L) 120 i.e. Landing Craft Infantry (Large) was 160 feet long and could land 188 soldiers on 2 bow ramps or carry 75 tons of cargo, such as shells, food etc.  They had the appearance of a small ship with a flat bottom with a draft of about 1 foot forward and a 3-foot draft at the stern.  The extra 2 feet at the stern was by 2 protective shields to prevent damage to the propeller, when we landed on a beach.  This also helped to come off the beach as the propellers were off the sand.  Later we found, on occasions, we had to reverse the engines as well as the kedge winch.  It had 3 orlican machine guns, 2 emergency rafts on the upper deck, 2 troop spaces with bunks and toilet in each.  The craft was driven by 8 diesel engines and it had a wireless cabin with transmitter and receiver and powered by 2 sets of 6 large batteries.  There was also the chart table in the cabin where the course was plotted.  My chair was welded to the deck because a flat-bottomed craft like this would cause you to slide all over the place at sea.  What I could not understand, we had 2 masts and the mast at the stern had a sail.  This, I leaned later was that if the engines failed crossing back over the Atlantic Ocean, we could use the sail.  Thankfully, we didn’t need to use the sail and just as well because nobody had a clue how it would work and that included our 2 officers.

 

We did engine trials for the next couple of weeks and the crew practiced various things, however, being a flat bottomed craft, it was very difficult to maneuver as the wind played havoc, especially going along side the jetty and guardrails would be broken off and would have to be replaced and welded to the deck.  This seemed to happen nearly every time we tried to tie up at the pier.

 

The wireless cabin was fairly comfortable but it was seldom used, as I had a remote set and transmitter on the bridge, which, when at sea, I was always there on duty for signals with one of the officers and one of the seamen as a lookout.  On the bridge, which was open, there was only a compass, voice pipe to a seaman also with a compass below, in the wheelhouse.  My wireless set was screwed to a small table.  Behind the bridge were all the signal flags.  I should also mention that in the wheelhouse were the controls to the engine room, to instruct them with the different speeds ahead or astern.  The orlican machine guns were at the bow, amid ships, behind the signal locker and at the stern.  At the bow were 2 ramps so when the craft was run to the beach; the ramps were lowered to let the soldiers off.    Sometimes we were able to get on to the beach and the troops would land dry but other times we would only be able to go so far, because of the rocks or a sandbar, so they we would have to wade ashore.

 

At the stern of the craft there was a kedge (anchor) which when landing on a beach, the kedge was dropped when we were about 200 feet from the shore.  The kedge had two flukes at the base, which dug into the sand.  When the craft was coming back off the beach, a winch at the stern drew in and the kedge causing the flukes to dig into the sand and pull the landing craft off shore.  Sometimes we had to use the engines in reverse if we were too high on the beach along with the kedge. 

 

We docked nearly every night in Brooklyn and went into New York a few times to see the sights and any time we did go, we would make for the stage door canteen, where the film stars would pay so much to serve the forces.  The food was free and very good.  One time we went to the stage door canteen and there was a British star at that time, called Ella Logan and she served and spoke to us and said that she was in a show on Broadway with Jack Benny and Rochester and would leave passes for us, if we wanted to go, with the doorman.  With a free night’s entertainment we certainly did go.  We were given seats in the circle, which were expensive and at the interval, the attendant asked us to come with her back stage to Miss Logan.  Ella Logan took us into the star dressing room and introduced us to Jack Benny and a few others.  He was most charming to us and gave us a good feeling.  It was an excellent show.

 

Another time at the stage door canteen, we were eating and an American sailor came up to us and said, “Haven’t you guys got any medals?”  One of our guys quickly said “you get medals in our country for fighting and not for peeling spuds”.  The yank was not amused and left.

 

Next we left New York and docked in Newark for a few days and one day I was in town along with one of the crew and a middle aged lady stopped us and invited us to her home to have supper. As we had to get back to our craft early because we were sailing to Norfolk Virginia the next day, we thanked her for the invitation, explaining why we couldn’t accept.  She then told us to wait and the lady went into a shop and gave us both a 5-pound box of assorted nuts.

 

The following morning we set off for Norfolk and down the Chesapeake Bay, where we docked and stayed for about a week.  The first night we went ashore we caught a bus and sat down.  An elderly gentleman turned round to the crew who were sitting at the back of the bus and told them not to sit on those seats as they were for the coloured people.  The seats were for the Jim Crows.  Our lads didn’t move and he was furious.  We could not understand why blacks were treated in this fashion, as at different places there were signs saying ‘whites only’ on the doors.  The whites were very racist, which we couldn’t understand.

 

We also went across by ferry to a town called Portsmouth, where a restaurant sold sizzling steaks for 65 cents, which we thoroughly enjoyed.

 

We had a team of welders come aboard welding rings to the deck, to which airplane engines were affixed and also round drum ends at the stern, which we understood were to make us look like submarine chasers, if we were spotted crossing back over the Atlantic.  Our seamen also rigged up safety ropes between the bulkhead and the guardrails as an extra safe guard, incase of rough weather when the waves would carry along the deck and one would be washed overboard.  We received our food supplies and joined a number of landing craft to form a squadron and crossed the Atlantic in convoy.  From memory, I think there were about a dozen  L.C.I.(L).S.

 

We set off from Norfolk to go to Bermuda and run into the tail end of a hurricane.  I have never been in or seen such a storm and we were tossed about like an eggshell.  The waves were about 30 feet in height and as the craft met them head on, the bow would disappear and the wave would sweep along the deck and the spray would come on and over the bridge.  It was difficult to see as the spray would blind you and all the officers, lookout and myself could do was hang on to something.  We were all sick and thought we were for the next world.  A signal came through my receiver instructing the flotilla to return to Norfolk.  We then changed course and eventually reached Norfolk.  All the crafts were damaged and we learned 2 of the craft had broken their backs but I never learned what happened to them or if the crew was rescued.  I doubt if any were rescued, as I would have thought it impossible, in such a stormy seas.  One of the engines broke loose on our craft and tore all the guardrails off before going over the side.  All or most of our dishes and cups were broken and in the galley, all the pots and pans were scattered all over.  We were in Norfolk for about a week getting new guardrails, dishes etc.  I also learned there were a number of broken arms and legs in the various landing craft.  We were lucky to get off with bruises.

 

The following week we sailed for Bermuda and the weather was much better and not so rough.  We eventually arrived in Bermuda and tied alongside in Hamilton.  We were beside a British cruiser, which had hit a mine and left an enormous hole at the bow of the ship.  Our landing craft could have sailed through the hole, as it was so large.  It was hard for us to credit that a mine could do such damage.

 

Bermuda was such a beautiful island and lovely and warm.  There were no cars at that time or if there were, we didn’t see any.  The only means of transport was a horse driven small carriage or by motorboat.

 

A few of us went to the services club, but as we had very little money, we managed to scrape up between us a Coca Cola each.  The lady who was serving us invited the electrician and me to her home for supper the next day. We met her at the Services Club and we walked to the dock, where we boarded a large speedboat, which belonged to her, and driven by a coloured man, who was the chauffer and gardner, she employed.  Her name was Mrs. Burrows and she owned all the beauty saloons on the Island and her husband, Fred, owned a company responsible for bringing all the liquor to Bermuda.  They had a beautiful house with a maid and a butler, well kept gardens and a private beach.  We had a lovely meal and we were served spinach with the vegetables.  Mrs. Burrows insisted we have plenty of spinach, as it was very good for us.  I didn’t like it but told her it was good and managed to get it down.  A neighbour dropped in and invited us to a party, which we accepted and I think it was a couple of days later.  We eventually scrounged enough money for a carriage to get to his place, which again was just beautiful.  There was a band playing and lots of food and a butler handing out drinks.  There were a number of American sailors there but we couldn’t stay for long, as we had to get back to the craft, as we were leaving for Gibralter early the next day.

 

We sailed the next morning with most of us still a bit concerned with crossing the Atlantic Ocean, in the flat bottomed landing craft, especially after our experience in the storm.

 

My duty was on the bridge from dawn to dusk and I had to do a radio watch every 3-½ hours for ½ an hour and also to be ready to read a lamp signal through the night.  Every one of the crew had very little sleep and it was tough at times not to fall asleep.  Our crossing was quite pleasant and the sea fairly calm, but our bread turned green with mould after a couple of weeks, so we just had hard tack biscuits instead. 

 

Every day at noon, the navigator on board the flag ship, that is the head ship in the squadron, where the senior officer in charge was stationed, plotted by sextant our exact position, as had all the officers on each craft had to do.  The position was given on the flags on each craft and I had to stand by as soon as the flagship hoisted our position and quickly tell my officer what it was.  He would instruct me to vary our position by a fraction, as I don’t think he had a clue how to work the sextant.  I wondered if we got lost from the squadron, we might land in Timbuktu!

 

Eventually, we sighted land, which was Spain and then to Gibraltar, which was a wonderful sight to see.  It is simply a large fortified hill with a small town on one side.  There was an airfield with a fairly short runway and when the planes took off or landed, they passed over the docks, where all ships were tied up.  We were all so happy to arrive safely and later decided to go along the jetty for a swim.  A soldier was on sentry duty and asked us what we thought we were doing.  We told him ‘what does it look like, we’re going for a swim”.  He then just pointed to a large sign, which we had not noticed, which said, “Anyone found in the water will be shot”.  He then explained that it was because some Italian frog-men had swam over from Algiceris in Spain, which is about 200 yards away, on the opposite side from where we were.  They had attached ‘Limpet Mines’ to some of the ships and blew holes in the sides, sinking them.  Periodically, a small depth charge would explode in the harbour as a deterrent to the frogmen.  Nothing happened when we were there. 

In the Royal Navy if you are over 21 years of age, you get a rum ration, or 3 pence per day. As I was underage, I was too young to get the rum or 3 pence per day. Some of the crafts at rum issue time gave out neat rum, which some of the sailors saved and poured into a bottle.  On larger ships it was 2 parts water to 1 part rum.  One of the sentries on one of the landing craft had been drinking during the night, when on duty.  His relief could not find him and he was discovered the next morning drowned in the harbour.  Obviously he could not swim.  One would imagine all sailors could swim, but that is not the case because at least half a dozen sailors on our craft were in that category, but by the time we left the Mediterranean, everybody could swim. 

We were issued with tropical kits and each received 2 of each, Khaki shorts, shirts, socks, sock hose with no feet and gaiters.  The shorts were all too long, so we cut them to just above our knees and made a hem.

 

There was not much to see in Gibralter, other than one of the beer gardens, which had a women’s band playing, which was lousy, and instead of glasses you drank from bottles, where the top had been cut off.  The rear mast with the sail was removed and an adjustment was made to the mid ship orlican gun so that it would not swivel over to the bridge where we were stationed. 

 

We then left for Algiers, but there was no fear of being hit by a torpedo, as with the low draft, it would pass underneath.  Actually, we would have been too small fry to waste a torpedo on.

 

On our way to Algiers, it was a wonderful sight to see porpoise swimming and diving at the bow of the craft and the weather was very warm and the sea quite calm.

 

Algiers is a beautiful city but only as one approaches from the sea. We tied up quite near the cruiser “Penelope” and that night there was an air raid and all the ships opened up firing at the planes.  Our 3 guns opened up but all jammed after a few rounds, as they were still full of grease.  The coxswain was put on a charge, as it had been his responsibility to see they were all clean and ready for action.

 

We went ashore and it was unbelievable the smell of garbage scattered all over the place.  The Cassbar was out of bounds, but we had heard about it and had a look, keeping a wary eye out for a patrol.  Again, the smell was terrible and thick with flies.  It was mostly fruit stalls and at one a cow had been slaughtered and the meat was handing up on hooks, covered with flies.  We were only in Algiers for a few days but glad to leave it.

 

We sailed along the North African coast stopping at a few small harbours. Once place we tied up was Bougie and learned the E.N.S.A. entertainment group from Britain, were   giving a show to entertain the troops.  Some of us went to see it, which was in a hall and steamy hot.  There was a comedian and singer and then a rather robust tap dancer.  She did her tap dance and we could see all the sweat running down her face.  When she finished her dance, we all shouted, “encore” and she danced again, almost collapsing with the heat.  I was really a lousy thing for us to do, but quite funny and I think she thought she was the star of the show, with all the hand clapping.

 

After leaving Bougie, we met up with our squadron in Djidjelli, where the 8^th Army Highland Division was stationed.  These troops had fought their way through the dessert and all very seasoned and experienced in warfare.  They were all very tanned and some had ulcers on their legs, called dessert sores.  They were just like boils only suppurating and horrible to see.

 

We then sailed from Djidjelli along the coast to Tunis and then to La Gaulette, where we saw an Arab camel train come in from the desert.  It was interesting to see and I stupidly put up my hand to clap one of the camels on the nose.   It looked so sleepy but as I put up my hand, it tried to bite and just missed the tip of my finger, but it’s lips left saliva on my fingers.  The dirty little Arab beside the camel laughed and was never nearer getting his pants dusted with my boot.  I had heard some camels had disease in their saliva, so I hurried quickly to wash my hands.

 

Our next trip was further along the coast to Sousse and Sfax, but it was a short stay as Typhus had broken out and we sailed back to Djidjelli to meet up again with the Highland Division.  Nearly every night the harbour was bombed by Italian or German planes so in the late afternoon all the craft left the harbour to various places along the coast.  Our favourite was a place called Tarza Bay, a little cove with beautiful white sands.  We would moor in the middle of the bay and as soon as the skipper, as we called the lieutenant, rang off “stop engines” we would jump in for a swim in lovely warm water.  As I was stationed on the bridge, I would just drop my pants and dive from the bridge missing the deck and guardrails.  One of the evenings, when I was swimming lazily, with my mind probably on Scotland, I got the fright of my life when a porpoise swam under me and so close I felt the vibration of the water underneath.  I swam back to the craft in record time.  The porpoises will not harm you but it has been known to have some sharks in that particular area, but to repeat myself, I got some fright.

 

While we were in Djidjelli, I sat an exam and became Telegraphist first class, which gave me an extra six pence per day.  When ashore, we would buy and barter the price with the Arabs for eggs and fruit.  An American company arrived, who were not very popular as they had plenty of money and loved to flash it about. 

 

When in the village one day, we went into an Arab café for a drink of lemonade, which was, I think a bit of lemon squeezed into a glass of water and we were speaking to some of the soldiers, who had been through the desert campaign and seen heavy fighting, when in came three American soldiers. The first thing that put everybody off, was when one of the Yanks said ‘Have you guys seen any action yet’?  What a thing to ask these troops from the Highland Division, who had been through so much.  You should have seen the disgust on our soldier’s faces, who looked at them but said nothing.  The next stupid thing was they asked the little Arab for a bottle of scotch and one of them brought out a roll of notes saying he had plenty of money.  The Arab, of course, did not have any liquor so they settled for a coffee, which in Africa is served in a tiny cup and is so strong and quite thick.  It’s really terrible but it’s what the Arabs drink.  I noticed 2 little, I’m sure, Scottish soldiers whose eyes nearly popped out of their heads, when the Yank flashed the big roll of money, well later on after complaining about the coffee, he went to the washroom.  A few minutes later, he staggered in with blood pouring from the back of his head and shouted ‘I’ve been mugged and robbed’.  I immediately looked to where the 2 soldiers had been standing but they had disappeared and I’m almost positive they were the culprits, who had hit him on the head with a bottle.  One of the soldiers said ‘It serves you right, you deserve it flashing all that money about’.  He received no sympathy whatsoever.

 

The Americans left after about 2 weeks leaving only the Highland division who then started landing maneuvers on landing craft and this where we came into the picture.  We did lots of practice landings and schemes with the Gordon Highlanders and got to know many of the troops and as I was on the bridge, I got to know some of their officers.  They were mostly Scots and a great bunch.  After a spell, we started serious schemes in preparation for the invasion of Europe and we had no idea where we would land but we were told it would be on the rocks and not on a beach.  This was something new to us but we knew there would be 4 landing craft, including us making a rock landing.

We did landings on rocks at 3:00 p.m. and 3:00 a.m. for about a week and it was very exhausting, with so little sleep.  We would pick up the troops about 8:00 p.m. and moor the craft and lower the scrambling nets down the side, so they could have a swim, then a rest before zero hour at 3:00 a.m.  One of the evenings, the troops from the 4 craft were in the water having a great time.  I was always on watch and I happened to see a black fin slowly going through the water.  As I just noticed the fin, my officer came on the bridge and I drew his attention to it.  He said as I agreed with him, it looked like a shark.  He was going to give it a burst from the orlican gun, but I told him to hang off while I signalled the other craft.  I sent by semaphore “suspected shark in vicinity”.  You never saw such a panic with the swimmers getting up the scrambling nets.  The officer fired a shot burst and the shark disappeared.  There was really no danger to the troops but better safe than sorry.  We had a good laugh after.

 Another incident that comes to mind was one evening it was getting dark as we made our way back to our craft to leave for Tarza Bay.  An Arab approached us waving a knife he wanted us to buy.  He was quite drunk and I took the knife from him. It was made from a file and razor sharp and it  had a wooden handle.  He wanted too much money and became quite aggressive and I didn’t want to give him it back in case he would do some damage and cut one of us.  Two of our guys grabbed him by the arms and flung him over the wall into the sea.  I had that knife but probably gave it away as I can’t remember what happened to it.  About a couple of days later one of the guys that helped throw him into the harbour said, “I wonder if he could swim”?  I don’t know if he could but life there was so cheap and we couldn’t have cared less.

 

Our 3 p.m. schemes were similar but it was much easier in daylight and we could see the rocks.

 

Now for the serious part.  On our last 3:00 a.m. scheme, we landed the troops and the skipper said, we would ring “flank ahead” for the engines to go faster than “full Speed” and get back to the harbour for a good sleep.  We had left the rocks when we rang “flank ahead” and sped over the water.  All of a sudden, the craft shuddered as we had gone over submerged rocks and as I went below to see the damage, water was pouring in and rising rapidly.  As we were near the shore, we made for the beach and arrived there just as the stern was level with the sea.  I hurried down to the mess deck, grabbed my clothes and went to the wireless cabin, which was dry.  Some of the crew had gear stowed at the stern, which was soaked and some items were covered with red lead.  I should mention as soon as we came off the rocks and sinking, I sent by R.T. (Radio Talk) “Hello Eagle this is Sparrow”.  The wireless station in Djidjellis code name was Eagle and my code name was Sparrow. To continue, “we have sprung a leak”.  As I finished a signalman off one of the craft cut in with words to the effect that I had to block the leak by jamming in my big bum.  The skipper was not amused.

 

The next couple of days were miserable as we dried clothes and tried to have a hot meal, but the galley was partly flooded, so we ate only hard tack biscuits and bully beef.  Our 2 officers had to go to a court of enquiry, but no action was taken against them.

 

The following day another landing craft L.C.I. (L) 291, came along side and we swapped crews, as we were an operational party and took over the new craft.  The other crew was not very happy to take over a half submerged vessel and you couldn’t blame them but I understood L.C.I.(L) 120 was floated and towed to Algiers to be repaired.  I never saw my old craft again.

 

After a few more schemes with the Highland Division in Djidjelli, we set sail for Malta.  We docked at a place just outside Valetta, where an oil tanker had been previously bombed and sunk with the water thick with oil.  Also, beside us a granary had been bombed and now infested with rats.  Nearly every time we looked across to the granary, we would see a rat.  We picked up large discs, which went round the bow and stern ropes, so rats would not be aboard.  We also had a seaman on duty at the gangplank.  In spite of all the precautions, 7 or 8 rats managed to get on board, which we managed to kill, but it was quite dangerous, as when cornered, they would try to bite and escape.

 

We had ammunition on board and the crew was kept busy unloading mostly anti-aircraft shells as Malta was being bombed almost every day or night.

 

When we were there, an officer skilled in navigation came on board and a couple of trucks came alongside, loaded with guns, mortars and ammunition.  We were all a bit surprised, as we had just bought a load of shells and ammo, but unknown to us, at that time; it was to be delivered to the partisans in Yugoslavia.  This was the reason the navigation officer had come on board.   We set off the next day and in the distance, at dusk, we could just make out the coast of Yugoslavia, which was still a good way off.  It became dark very quickly and as we neared the coast, the navigation officer said to me that if his calculations were correct, we should be near our dropping off spot.  I had then to signal with a very small lamp the code letters and in return received the recognition signal, which meant we were spot on and to beach at their light.  It was a sandy beach and about 30 or 20 partisans, quickly helped us unload the guns etc.  It was a very dangerous time for them as if captured they could be executed.

 

No matter how serious a situation, there is always or nearly always, something humorous happens, which helps to give you a laugh or a lift.  One of the seamen, a good looking Scot, was on the beach with me when he saw a partisan woman with a tommy-gun and he went over to her giving her a Scottish greeting, such as “how’s it goin hen”?  She turned towards him and leveled the gun at his midriff, with no smile or word.  Stevie, as he was called, put his hand up in the air and backed away very quickly.  What a ribbing he got from us about that incident with Stevie the glamour boy being chased off by a woman with a tommy gun.  Believe me, it was not very funny at the time.  We left without incident after some of the partisans shook our hands and we sailed back to Malta.

 

Malta is a very historic place with a wall rounding most of Valetta.  We had a couple of trips to Valetta and found it very interesting.  I had a photo taken there with a couple of the crew and one of them collapsed when we got back to the craft.  He had sand fly fever and was sent to a hospital in Rabat.  Another bad incident happened to one of the stokers, when he was cleaning some piece of machinery on the deck with petrol.  Some of the petrol had spilled on his clothes and when he started, whatever it was, a spark ignited the petrol on his clothes.  I was not on board to see it but seemingly, he was enveloped in a sheet of flames.  He was very badly burned and as we had morphine in our emergency kit, our officer jabbed the needle into his arm.  An ambulance came and took him away to hospital but we never saw him again and have no idea how he faired.

 

This time another amusing incident where I was the recipient.  The local drink at that time was a port and lemon and when I was in the wireless cabin one of the crew said for me to come with them for a drink.  I said that I would come when I had finished what I was doing. 

 

In one of the schemes we were on in North Africa, the troops had to land by using collapsible boars and paddle ashore.  The boats held about 10 or 12 soldiers and when the boat was collapsed it became flat.  For some reason, one of the boats was left on our craft so we kept it.  When I came on deck to join them they had left and were paddling across the harbour to the café.  They didn’t wait for me so I told one of the stokers to stand by the power water hose as they were returning and as they were about to tie up I gave him the nod to put it on full power.   The water gushed out of the hose, which I directed on the boat and the crew in it.  The boat filled up with water so quickly, it sank and the guys had to swim a few yard to the jetty.  It was all taken in good fun.  They grabbed me when they came on board and I was tossed over the side into the harbour.  We never saw the boat again, so I guess it is still at the bottom of the harbour.  After that we went back to North Africa.

 

What I forgot to tell you earlier, when we first docked in Malta, was, when we tied up a naval commander came on board and gave our officer a real dressing down, as most of our crew, including me, had our hats on the back of our heads and khaki shirts open to the waist. He said we looked like a pack of gypsies and asked we dress as per naval regulations.  The commander was, in fact, Earl Beatty and a proper snob.  He was probably correct as we did look like pack of gypsies.  We had another run in with Earl Beatty in Sicily after the invasion in Augusta Harbour.

 

Back to Djidjelli again where we met up with the Highland Division of the 8^th army.  We had more schemes with the Gordon Highlanders and we got to know some of the soldiers.  With the Gordon’s, I met Neil Brannan, who lived beside me in Broadholm Street and although I didn’t know him well then, but had seen him a few times in passing and I guess we had been more or less on nodding terms.  Most of the people I knew were in the Boys Brigade but he belonged to another church and religion.

 

At the beginning of July, the troops and all Gordon’s came on board in full battle dress and equipment and we knew this was now the real thing and everybody was feeling a bit nervous, but we were all keyed up to get going to wherever the landing and invasion would be. Some thought we would land in Yugoslavia but nobody had a clue until the landing craft were ready to sail and under way. I was in the wireless room beside the chart table and saw we were heading for Sicily.  The skipper came into the cabin and between us plotted where we would land.  It was on the south tip of Sicily and landing on rocks at Cape Passero.  Word was soon passed round and we had agreed to pool our food with the army cook and this would give the soldiers and ourselves a good feed before the landing.  As it turned out the sea became quite rough and most of the soldiers were seasick and couldn’t look at food, so we had more than enough to eat.  I think it was a mixture of meat and rice or something like that. We were to land at dawn in Sicily and just about an hour before we landed a catholic priest asked out skipper if he could use our loud hailer to bless the troops.  He spoke quietly and said who he was and irrespective of whatever religion we were he would like us to bow our heads in prayer.  I think everybody on the craft closed their eyes and listened to his prayer, as we did not know what was ahead of us.

 

We were heading for the beach and passed some gliders in the water that had been dropped short of their landing place and the paratroops were in the water shouting for us to rescue them.  We could not stop as we had to be the leading craft on the beach and by this time a rocket landing craft had sent off 2 salvoes just beyond our rocky beach.  It was an amazing sight as I think in 1 salvo about 1500 rockets left the craft in a sheet of flame and exploded on landing.  That was the firsts time we had seen them in action and the devastation must have been terrible.

 

All the troops were now on deck and as we hit the beach or rocks all hell broke loose and where the rocket salvo was supposed to clear the beach area they had overshot and the rockets had landed and exploded about a quarter of a mile further back.  Mortars were exploding and an enemy machine gun was spraying our area wounding and killing some of the Gordon troops from our craft.  I was on the bridge with the skipper and as the last of the troops disembarked, I had to signal the LCI (L) behind us to come in as we were now coming off the beach.  The beach area was now quite thick with smoke from the guns and the noise quite deafening.  Above all the noise we could hear the bagpipes playing and we knew the piper who landed with us and I believe, he was among the first to come off the craft.    I think he must have been very brave to stand and play with all the chaos around him.  I saw Neil Brannan on the beach when a shell exploded beside him, when I looked again, all I saw was soldiers lying flat and not moving.  I was sure he had been killed but as I will tell you later, he was very lucky to be alive.

 

There were 2 large ships loaded with troops and they were called the Princess Beatrix and the Queen Emma.  We went along side and made a number of trips with the troops to a sandy beach and by that time the beach area had been cleared and all the action was futher inland.  There were bodies all over the place and medics were busy with the wounded.  I learned later that where we had landed it was a German Division who was opposing us and with them it was fight all the way.  The Americans landed at Palermo against the Italian army with virtually no opposition so once again the Brits got the hard end of the stick.  The Americans with little opposition were able to move fairly quickly to about the middle of Sicily, whereas the British troops along with some Canadian troops ran up against very seasoned German troops and I believe it was the Herman Goering Panzer division that was also involved in the fight.  Casualties were very high on both sides.  After we had finished landing the troops from the Beatrix and Emma, we were ordered to the first port to be captured, which was Syracuse.  After we arrived and tied up an Italian submarine came into the harbour with the Italian crew at the bow at harbour stations.  We were told that their radio was not working for some reason and they were unaware that the allies had invaded Sicily.   When they saw craft and a couple of mine sweepers with the British flags and guns trained on them, they panicked and the next minute their flag was lowered signifying surrender.  They were ordered to come just along the pier, where we were and troops went on board and all the crew were taken off the sub and lined up against a warehouse wall.  Some of the crew had been off duty and were in bunks sleeping and they came out and some had only singlets and pants on, no shoes.

 

They were loaded into trucks and sent to a P.O.W. camp somewhere.  Although they were our enemies, one always felt a wee bit sorry for prisoners of war because they are scared and worried about how they would be treated. I guess we would feel the same.

 

The next day, I went along to the submarine and told the sentry on duty I would like to go in to have a look inside.  At first he said that nobody had to go in but after a bit of persuasion, he said to be quick and don’t touch anything.  I went down the ladder from the conning tower and although the lighting was on, the smell was something awful and it was so bad I only stayed for about a couple of minutes.  It was so crammed and so little space, I just don’t know anyone could live in a sub.  In fairness, regarding the smell, I should tell you that the air supply had been shut off, so no doubt there would not have been the smell I experienced.

 

After Syracuse, we went back to Malta and made a few trips back to Sicily with ammunition and supplies. When we beached Italian P.O.W.s would unload our cargo and sometimes our crew would help so we could get off quicker.  One of the times a group of P.O.Ws were unloading our cargo and the guard was a little cockney soldier.  Stevie, of the Yugoslavia Misadventure, was wearing just a pair of shorts and had black hair and very suntanned and was leaning over the guardrail watching the unloading.  I was beside the little guard who, when he saw Stevie, gave him a jab on the rear end and shouted “get back to work you lazy @@##”.  Steve was furious at being taken for an Italian P.O.W. although he looked exactly like one.  He was ready to punch out the guard who was most apologetic but we managed to placate him.   Again Stevie was teased but eventually took it in good part.

 

Our next trip was back to Bougie for fresh water and a chance to catch up on some sleep, as everyone was exhausted and very jumpy.  We were only there for about 3 days as Gingers crew had gone ashore and had been drinking Arab liquor, which was really gut-rot.  A fight broke out in one of the cafes and finished up a riot, with windows, chairs and tables being wrecked.  A number of the crew were arrested and bought back to the various craft.  The next morning the 4 or 5 crews, including us, were lined up and the naval commander in charge of Bougie, gave us all a dressing down because of the damage that had been done in town and we were all sent back to Sicily.

 

On the way back to Sicily, our skipper was furious as none of our crew were involved in the riot, however, he told the crew to cleanup the craft and all wood, meaning the bridge duck boards, to be cleaned with caustic soda, to make them white again.  The idiot, who was detailed to do the duck boards, went to the heads (toilets), where there were 3 wooden toilet seats.  He washed them with the caustic soda, unknown to us and when one of the crew sat down, the caustic burned his rear end.  Only then did we find out what he had done.  I told him to take off the toilet seats and tie them onto a heaving line, which is a rope and put them over the stern so the salt water might neutralize the caustic.  About a couple of hours later, he went to pull in the seats to find them missing as the line had broken or he had not secured them properly.  Everyone was furious, as we had to sit on the cold porcelain on the bowl.

 

I should tell you about the heads. They were in a very small area with a shower but no curtain, 2 small washbasins and 3 toilet bowls.  There was no flush for the toilet bowls and absolutely no privacy and water was continuously coming in at one side and running through to the other side and out into the sea.  In rough weather one could only use the centre bowl, as the water would splash up on the other two bowls.  One was risking a wet bum if you didn’t use the centre bowl.  Again, if somebody was using the shower, we could not use the toilets, as we would get soaked.  The washbasins were very close to the toilet bowls.  In other words it was a crammed crap box.

 

When we came back to Sicily, we were sent to Augusta Harbour, which was not a real harbour but a bay with a narrow entrance and in the bay were a number of naval ships and landing craft.  There was also a fort in which enemy ammunition was stored.  Every night, we were in Augusta Harbour we were bombed by enemy planes with some of the ships and craft being hit and sunk.  The boefor guns had a tracer bullet in every 5^th shell and this applied to all the landing craft.  It was dark when the planes came and as soon as the big ships opened fire, with their ack-ack guns, the landing craft opened up lightning up the sky and firing with no idea where the planes were.  My action station was on the bridge so I saw all that was going on.  It was quite frightening at times but it’s a situation of “what can you do other than hope for the best”.

 

To revert back to Earl Beattie, who called us a pack of gypsies, our craft had to take him to the fort, which was on a little island, where he had to check and list the supplies of ammo left by the enemy.  We dropped him off one afternoon and that particular night, plane after plane bombed the harbour.  At dawn the next morning, a signal by lamp was sent to our craft to pick up Earl Beattie at the fort.  This we did and he was in some rage calling the skipper, who was a very junior officer, everything under the sun, as Beattie was to be picked up from the fort at dusk, although we had no instructions to do this, as we assumed arrangements for this had been given to another craft   In his absence, thought it quite funny because being in an ammunition dump, if a bomb had hit it, he would have probably been the first man to arrive on the moon.  Fortunately for us, we had no more dealings with Earl Beattie.

 

Eventually, the allies had captured Sicily and we worked our way up the coast to Santa Theresa de Riva, Catania and eventually Messina.

 

When in Catania, we saw the smoke coming from the volcano, Mount Etna and I thought I would not like to be in Catania, if the volcano erupted.

 

As we came into Messina harbour, there was a large painted sign on a building “Il Duce”.  That was Mussolini, who Churchill referred to in one of his famous speeches to the people as “The Croaking Bull-frog of Pontiach Marshes”. 

 

In the harbour, in Messina, there were a large number of landing craft, as we were about to invade Italy.  I saw there the bravest or the most stupid incident in the war.  The alert went for all guns to be manned for aircraft attack.  Three planes flew overhead and one plane dived and came in to attack from our bow.  Every gun opened up at that plane, which disintegrated before our eyes.  The next plane came in from our stern and again, all the guns opened up and the plane was blown to smithereens.  The third plane wisely took off.  These enemy pilots had absolutely no chance, thus my saying they were very brave or stupid. 

 

I think it was the next day we took on some engineers 2 or 3 days before the actual invasion with some infantry and that evening, we went up the coast to a beach where the engineers went to a railway bridge and blew it up, destroying it.  They were only away for about half an hour but we were glad to see them get off the beach safely.

 

On September 3^rd, I believe, we received orders that we would be invading Italy and it was our craft that had to crash the boom at Reggio San Giovanni and drop the troops.  Prior to our landing, the coast of Italy, which is very close to Sicily at Messina, received barrage after barrage of shells fired from Messsina.  The air was thick with gun smoke and our faces blackened.  We crashed the boom, which was only a chain across the mouth of the  harbour and amazed there was no resistance whatsoever.  We did not know that Italy had capitulated or surrendered prior to our landing and we had anticipated heavy resistance and casualties.  What a delightful surprise.  At 8 o’clock that morning, I managed to get the B.B.C. (British Broadcasting Company) on the radio and switched it on the speaker.  We were waiting to hear the news about our invasion of Italy.  What a disappointment, when the announcer never mentioned it, but at that time, it was not made public, however, at midday, it was the main topic in the news, so we didn’t feel so bad.   Being September, the vineyards were full of grapes and they were for the picking.  We ate so many grapes, unwashed, that all the crew had terrible diarrhea, which lasted for about a week.   

 

The next job we had was to go up the coast with 2 other L.C.I.(L)s with infantry and to land at various little towns or villages on the coast where the mayor or town official would hand over the town.  If we came across any German resistance or troops, we had to withdraw.  As it was, the only troops we saw were dispirited Italian soldiers, walking along the railway tracks possibly trying to get home as the war for them was over.

 

After bringing back our troops, we then sailed to Crotone and then to Taranto, which was the main port of the Italian fleet.  When we saw the battleships and cruisers etc. in the harbour, we wondered why they had not challenged the British Navy in the Mediterranean, as they had a powerful looking fleet, but I guess they lacked the courage.

 

Back again to Malta and then to the Adriatic side of Italy to Bari and Brindisi.  On our way to the Adriatic, our other officer who tried to “do it by the book” was a good sort and wrote in the night order book, as the Italian fleet was sailing to Malta from Taranto.  He wrote “shake 1^st Lieutenant, if Italian Fleet is sighted”.  The next morning he was quite angry as one of the stokers had written in the night order book “shake stoker Green if the Russian Army is sighted”.  I thought it was so funny and No. 1 as he was called saw the funny side of it, but Green was warned never to write in the book again.

 

When we got to Bari there was a hospital ship in the bay and we had to take wounded soldiers out to the ship.  It was a pathetic sight to see the wounded lined up with half on stretchers.  There were Italian P.O.W.’s helping the wounded who were British, German and Italian.

 

I saw one of the wounded obviously suffering and trying to come aboard and I went over to help him.  He thanked me in very good English and told me he had been to England many times and he has been a German international soccer player and added that he was badly wounded in his leg and back and would never play soccer again.  I helped him sit down on the deck and gave him a cigarette.  I felt quite sorry for him and as I left, I gave him what was left in the package of my cigarettes.  To perhaps repeat myself, we hate our enemies, yet once you see them as prisoners of war, your feelings mellow towards them as if they were out of their uniforms; the Germans just look the same as us.  With other craft, we ferried the wounded out to the hospital ship until it was full and then left to go back to Bougie.

 

At Bougie, we learned that we were now going back to England but before we left there was a wireless station and some of the telegraphists were down with dysentery and they were short staffed.  I said I would do the first watch, which is 8:00 p.m. to 12:00 a.m.  This I did and to get to the harbour, I had to go through the Arab quarters, which was quite scary, as the streets were so narrow and dark, with some Arabs sleeping in doorways and only covered by a piece of blanket or burlap.  I was badly bitten by mosquitoes but I was so concerned going through the Arab quarters, I didn’t feel them until I got back to the craft.  The Arabs are known there to be handy with a knife so I can tell you it was pretty scary.

We then left to arrive at Gibraltar, where I bought a large bunch of green bananas and put them in one of the gun lockers.  There were no bananas in Britain during the war, so I thought it would be a treat for my folks and friends when I went home on leave.

 

We joined a convoy to sail through the Bay of Biscay off the coast of Portugal and it’s well known as always being a rough and stormy sea.  It was rough but we were all seasoned sailors by now, so we had no real problems, other than again-lack of sleep.

 

During one of the nights a destroyer suspected a submarine was in the vicinity and dropped about half a dozen depth charges.  I was in my bunk at that time and thought we had hit a mine as there was such an explosion.  I think it was a false alarm but difficult to fall asleep after hearing these charges go off.

 

As we neared the English Channel, it became very cold as it was now late November and the thought of sitting on one of the woodless toilet bowls took a bit of courage or desperation.

 

Eventually, we tied up in Southampton and a couple of days later; we sailed to South Shields near Newcastle and were given 10 days leave.

 

We traveled on the night train to Glasgow arriving about 5:30 a.m.  What a welcome I received from my Mother and Father who stayed off his work that morning.  I gave my Mother the silk stockings and assorted nuts and also the bunch of bananas, which were now turning from the dark green to yellow.  It was great to get into my own wee bed again.

 

As I was fed up wearing my uniform, I decided to change into my navy blue civilian suit and wear a white shirt and tie.  My suit was a bit tight but when my Mother saw me, she said to take my suit off and put on my uniform.  She said I looked like one of the lascars (Shirlankins) of the boats.  My mother was right as I was so tanned, I did look like one.

 

When my leave finished I had to report to Portsmouth barracks, which is the big navy depot on the south of England.  It was supper time when I arrived and tripe and onions were being served.  Sleeping arrangements were in hammocks and above the mess tables.  It was terrible but what can one do.  I was sent for to report to a Lieutenant commander who said, I had been recommended for a commission by my officer.   I said that I was flattered but refused, as I knew from the No. 1 on my craft, who was a lawyer that he had to buy his uniform and it cost him quite a lot of money as a sub-lieutenant was poorly paid being the lowest rank commissioned.  My parents could not support me so why bother.  If I had been in the army, I would have accepted a commission.

 

Duties were handed out every morning, such as scrubbing floors, peeling spuds and lousy jobs, however, I had a sheet of paper that I carried in my hand and if questioned by a Petty officer, I would say I was delivering a signal.  That worked for almost a couple of weeks and when I went to collect my pay there was a telegraphist in front of me in the line up.  I overheard him say he had just returned from a place in Scotland but he did not fit in and was sent back. He had been at a place called Dundonald and as I had been expecting to be drafted to the Far East and didn’t fancy going away again, after my stint in the Middle East.  I thought about it for a while and decided I’ll take a chance and see if I can bluff my way to get back to Scotland.  I had no idea where Dundonald was, so I should have mentioned that when I arrived in Portsmouth.  I took off my Combined Operations badge, as hopefully, I would not go on another landing craft again.

 

I decided to sew on my badge and went to the Master-At-Arms Office and asked him when I was being sent back to my base at Dundonald.  He took me by surprise telling me I should not be here and he would have a rail pass made out for me to go to Dundonald.  As I was leaving, he asked me if it was Dundonald 1 or Dundonald 2.  Fingers crossed, I told him Dundonald 2.  Again, lucky Jim.

 

I went to London and left for Glasgow on the night train and learned Dundonald was near a town called Troon and about 35 miles from Glasgow.  Good luck so far but when I arrived at Troon, the railway porter said he would phone the camp for a truck to pick me up.  After a while, an army truck picked me up with all my gear and to my big surprise, in the camp, everybody was wearing an army uniform and sailors with their navy hats.

 

What I had let myself in for!  After handing my papers over to a Petty officer in army uniform, he told me I would be going to see the officer of the day.

 

As I was ushered into the office, there was a Navy Lieutenant also in army uniform.  He looked over my papers and said to the P.O. “Put that man under arrest”.  I got the shock of my life and asked him why.  I then discovered this was a hush-hush organization and they had not asked for another telegraphist and I had no reason to be in Dundonald.  I then told him truthfully how I had overhead the telegraphist who failed his course and this type of operation appealed to me, still having no idea what I had let myself in for and didn’t relish sitting in a cell in the guardroom. I then told him about being in Africa and in the invasions of Sicily and Italy.  He then told the P.O. to put me under open arrest, as I might be the right type of person for this unit.  That was me partly off the hook but still a bit worried.  That afternoon it came through the loud speaker for me to report to the officer of the day.  I went to his office expecting the worse but was pleasantly surprised when he told me I had been checked out and would be put on a months trial, which would entail tough training and if I was acceptable, I would join the unit.  This unit was called ‘The Bombardment Unit’ and earlier it had been known as a F.O.O. Unit (Forward Officer Observer).

 

I was then taken to the equipment or clothing store and issued with full army equipment, battledresses, 2 pairs of army boots, battle pack, webbing for revolver and holster, gaiters, water bottle etc.  I was issued with a full army uniforms but with no overcoat or hat.  The hut I was allocated to was quite comfortable and with bunk beds.  As I sat confused with all the bits of equipment, a number of telegraphists came in and welcomed me and helped me assemble all the pieces of webbing and sorts.  They were a real good bunch of fellows and I was fortunate to be accepted later into the same unit.

 

The next morning at 7:00 a.m. the unit went on parade with an army sergeant in charge.  He remarked what a lovely day it was and we should all go for tea and buns.  When I heard this I thought this is great but didn’t realize we would march for about 3 miles to get the tea and buns and then 3 miles back to camp.  My feet were burning up as they marched at a fast pace and he kept shouting at me to hurry up.

 

We then marched down to the beach to an assault course and were told to go twice round the assault course with the last 3 going round again and up to the firing range.  I was just exhausted and my feet were sore and blistered wearing new army boots.

 

He looked at me and ordered me to stand to attention, then quick march towards the sea.  I stopped at the waters edge and looked at him.  He then asked me if I were deaf as he had given me an order, which I had not carried out, by stopping at the waters edge.  He then shouted at me “quick march and stop when I tell you”.  I walked into the icy cold sea and when the water came up to my knees, he shouted at me to halt and turn right.  About 100 yards along the beach, there was a pole sticking out but in the water. He then told me to walk along the water to that pole and back and stay in the water until he returned.  The fire went out of my feet and it felt so good.

 

This sergeant was so strict but when he came back, he said in a real kindly way “come in now son and go to the sick bay and have them treat your feet, which are bound to be blistered”.  He then told me to try and dry my boots as much as possible and rub in dubbin to soften the leather and don’t report till 7:00 a.m. tomorrow morning and “don’t be late or I’ll have your guts for garters.  Well, my feet were in a mess and the sick bay medical orderly treated the blisters.  I did as the sergeant said and I was really surprised how my boots had broken in and were fairly comfortable the next day.  The water had softened my boots to fit into the shape of my feet, so the sergeant did me a good turn by having me go into the sea.

 

Every day after the parade, all the telegraphists went into a wireless class to receive morse in plain language cipher, code and in a foreign language and this was so important as we were observers in a naval bombardment and working with an artillery officer directing shells from the naval ships by using the morse code.   The Army signals were not qualified for this type of work as their morse was only about 8 words per minute, where we could send and receive up to 26 words per minute and in an operation, such as ours, we had to be fast before the Germans plotted our position with R.D.F. (Radio Direction Finding) and as they did at times, they would shell the area and I will tell you later what we would do.

 

After our morse test the fun would start, as we would strip to the waist after morning roll call and a series of toughening up exercises were given, such as running with one of the telegraphists on ones back to the end of the field and then your partner would run back with you on his back.  Another strenuous exercise was with logs, where a team of 5 would do various lifts and stretches and as these logs were pretty heavy, we had to be very careful, especially when the exercise was above our heads.  After that, we were on the assault course, which was full of hazards, where at times, it took strength and balance.  From memory, we had to crawl through a corrugated metal tube, climb a wood fence, run across an area with spiked sticks and you had to be sure you stood on the spike otherwise, it could embed itself in your ankle or leg.  We also climbed a tower using a scrambling net, as is used on ships and then cross using your hands on a rope to another platform about 20 yards away.  This was really tough as by this time, we would be feeling tired and if you let go the rope, one would fall about 30 feet.  There were a few other hazards but we would do the assault course twice with the last 3 to go round it again.  We then ran to the indoor rifle range, firing 5 rounds and then another 5 rounds rapid fire.

 

After my months trial was up, I was officially in No. 3 bombardment unit and attached to a Captain Peter Cullen. This was now January and our unit boarded trucks and were sent to Inverary and billeted in nission huts in the Inverary Castle grounds.  This was the straw that nearly broke the camels back or in our case – our backs. It rained every day and we practiced wet landings on L.C.A.’s in Loch Fynne and in freezing water.  The food was lousy and there was no place to dry our uniforms, so in the morning, we were putting on wet clothes and again doing wet landings.  We were there for about 5 days and then sent back to Dundonald.  Most of us were red raw, especially on our shoulders and between the tops of our legs with us wearing wet clothing.  It was just a terrible 5 days, however, we all made it.

 

Occasionally, we had to do an indoor shoot, where we were given a map and in front a large table about 10 feet square.  The table was like looking at a landscape with fields, some with cattle, farm house, tanks, little metal soldiers (German), a pill box and items we would probably see when we were in action and observing gun fire for a battleship or cruiser.  The drill was, an officer would tell you what was the target and using a morse key on the table, send a map reference to the ship, which was actually a telegraphist in the next room, taking the part of the ships telegraphist.  As the imaginary ship would fire a shell the observer, in this case me would hear on his receiver a series of dots such as .. .. ..  That was the shells time of flight and as the shell was about to explode, I would hear 3  esses (S.S.S).  On the last dot, the shell had exploded and if it didn’t hit the target, we would give the ship directions to hit or be very near the target.  When the shell landed near or on target, we would signal F.E.M.U. i.e. Fire for Effect Multiple Unit. The ship would then fire 5 to 10 shells.

 

I should mention that on the table, a puff of smoke would come through little holes to give us the impression where the shell would explode and this was never on the target, so we had to give directions to the target.  There were always lots of officers watching and when I finished my shoot, a Captain came up to me and said that I had performed the exercise very well.  He then asked me my name and chatted away and finally said that he would like me to be in his party.  I took an instant liking to this wee Scots officer and felt flattered that he wanted me in his party, but I said that I was attached to Captain Cullen.  He then said that if he spoke to the Colonel and was given permission for me to be his telegraphist, would I go with him.  The next day when I met him, he said he had spoken to the Colonel and I was now his telegraphist.  The officer was Captain Alex Cameron and from that day, he became my friend for life.  He was a thorough gentleman and treated me as a friend instead of an officer and a telegraphist.  We really got on well and later in Normandy, we always discussed the plan of action we would take before doing a shoot.  I could never speak too highly of Alex Cameron.

 

Two incidents when I was in Dundonald came to mind. We had a great unit and although it was a tough training period, we had fun. One of the bombardiers managed from some source and coupon free, to get a blouse and slip for his girlfriend and he showed it to us before parceling it up.  One of our boys was going to post a letter at the post office said he would mail it for him.  The bombardier was going on leave early the next week and said his girlfriend would be so happy to see him, especially with him sending her the lingerie.  Instead of mailing his parcel, some of our guys, for a joke, did not mail it and during the night, stealthily went into the A.T.S.  (Women’s Army Service) area, where they dried their clothes and stole a pair of thick brown stockings, a pair of knickers and I think a bra. They parceled them up and sent it off to his girlfriend.  The original parcel was mailed the day he left for leave.

 

When he returned from leave, he was telling us that the first thing he asked his girlfriend was if she liked his present and was shocked at her reply.    He then discovered what our guys had done, however, his parcel arrived in a couple of days later and everything was ok.  They both saw the funny side and also the respective families.

 

The other incident was not a happy one as one of our telegraphists, Jock Smith, who was engaged to a Jehovah Witness girl who was in hospital and seriously ill. He was granted compassionate leave to see her.  On his return to camp, he told us he she had died because the family would not give permission for her to get a blood transfusion, as it was against their religion.  He was devastated and very angry with her parents.  When he finished telling us what had happened, he looked straight at us and said I won’t come off the beach’.  We told him not to be daft and tried to cheer him up.  The first fatality in our unit was Jock Smith who was killed when a mortar shell   landed on the beach beside him and exploded.  I often wonder if he had a premonition that it would happen.  Strange but an unexplainable mystery.

 

We went on many schemes in Ayrshire, being dropped at certain places and by wireless, given places to go by map reference and then to do a dummy shoot.  This was to train us so we could operate on our own, if some of our party were wounded or killed.  We then were issued with .38 revolvers and taught to fire from our hip.  This was a joke as the revolver range was built up on 3 sides and topped by sand bags. The range had 3 targets and the sergeant would tell you to fire 2 bullets at the target he called out. He would shout to fire  “Target 3 then 1 then 2”.  It was amusing as I think about every 9^th or 10^th shot would hit a target and we would see puffs of dirt on the mounds rather than on the target.  Shooting from the hip was crazy as we were all very good shots, with arm fully stretched and our left hand holding our wrist.  By this time we were all very fit and each party was so competitive and keen to be the best.  Our party was known as Fox 9 and comprised of Capt. Cameron, Lance Bombardier Flynn and 3 Telegraphists, Jamieson (Jamie), Gunnel (Guns) and myself (Scotty).  Each party had 5 personnel.  We had also a Major and a Colonel.  There were 6 parties with 18 telegraphists in total. 

 

I sat another exam and became a Tel.To. (Trained Operator) and for that received an extra 6 pence per day and also an extra 6 pence per day danger money.

 

One morning in late May, we were told to get ready in battle gear, which meant leaving most of our gear in our kit bag and only having our battle pack, which we wore on our back, carrying soap, razor, towel, ground sheet, gas cape, spare shirt, vest and socks, one blanket for sleeping, mess tins and mug.  We were issued with our revolver, ammunition, killing knife, entrenching tool (small spade to dig slit trenches), water bottle and purifying pills and only essentials, including our wireless set.

 

We left that evening by train to the south of England and saw lines of trucks and tanks etc.  We knew the invasion was about to start.  We finished up at a town called Fareham and into a heavily guarded area with fields.  We were allocated a tent and a bale of straw to be broken up for us to use for sleeping.  There was also a Canadian company in the same field and we used to sneak over to their cookhouse at meal times, as their food was better and more plentiful than ours.  They were a great bunch and gave us, as they said “Limey Cigarettes” as they only smoked “Sweet Caporal”.

 

Once in the camp, we were issued with passes, which seemed crazy to me, as nobody was allowed out of the camp, however, we learned that this was Field Marshall Montgomery’s head quarters and our passes were noted from A to .G.  Against our passes A was the lowest, which we had circled, but I reckon that the further up the officers rank, was they were permitted to certain areas.  We saw in the distance a large house, which I believe was the headquarters.  A specialist radio officer came round to our tent to check our wireless set, which was ok.  Another officer came round to say that Fox 9 party and another 3 parties would be landing on D-Day, which was to be June 5^th but was delayed because of bad weather to June 6^th. 

 

Late in the afternoon, on June 5^th, we boarded a tank landing craft, with our jeep along with other transport and some Canadian infantry.  We would have been actually last to board, but an English Officer ordered us to board before his jeep, as he wanted to be first off the craft to land in Normandy.  This caused us later on in landing the only laugh for the next few days.  We then disembarked and lined up for supper, which was stew, potatoes and veg.  For dessert, it was yellow cling half peaches, which I just love.  The soldier behind me didn’t like peaches so I told him that I would take them.  They were delicious and I feel my mouth watering just thinking about them.  Soon after our meal, we sailed and joined a convoy.  Captain Cameron, who we addressed as “skipper’, when no other officers were around, went through the gear we had picked up and there was so much, we wouldn’t need or use, so we tossed it overboard. I then got under a truck and fell asleep and didn’t waken until we were about an hour from landing.

 

Just prior to our boarding the TLC (Tank Landing Craft), one of the officers gave me a small piece of paper, which read “The evil that men do lives after them the good is oft interred with their bones”.  I was about to throw it away as I thought he was nuts, when the skipper (Capt. Cameron) asked if I had received our code.  I told him I had received it and learned Fox 9’s identification signal was every 3^rd letter so on “D” Day, our signal was TEL and ‘D’ Day plus 1 was AEO etc.  We also had coded I.D. signals for various war ships for the first 4/5 days but later we were instructed by our Major, who gave us the positions we had to observe and direct the warships guns. Destroyers were about 1 mile from the beach with 5-inch guns and a maximum range of 10 miles.  On the other hand battleships were positioned 3/7 miles off shore with some having 14 inch to 16-inch guns with a 13-mile range.

 

We were landing on Sword Beach with British and some Canadian troops.  This beach or area had to be held at all costs as it was the nearest beach to Le Havre and the extreme left of the invasion.  The next beach was “Juno” where the 3^rd Canadian Division landed.  Next again, was “gold” where the 50^th British Division landed.  The Americans landed further at “Omaha” and “Utah”.

 

I thought the Sicily landing was bad but nothing to what I was about to see.  There were a number of landing craft sunk by shells and bodies floating in the water.  Mortar shells were exploding on the beach area and as we came in through a space between the Hedgehogs, the ramp at the front of the TLC dropped and first off was the English Officer, I mentioned earlier.  He stood up in his jeep and raised his arm and shouted “Tally Ho”.  The jeep went down the ramp and traveled through the water for about 10 yards and sunk into a shell hole and the engine stalled.  There he was stuck in his jeep with water up to his waist.  The craft had to back out and come in again at a different part to let us off with the rest of the vehicles.  We went through about 4 feet of water but did not stall as our jeep had a long tube protruding from the air filter, as did most of the trucks.  We were immersed to the waist in the salt water as we were crouched down with all the shelling going on.  Later on, I learned German machine guns had raked the beaches initially, as some troops and the R.E.’s (Royal Engineers), in the first wave arrived and had very heavy casualties.  The engineers went up the beach prodding the sand for mines and clearing a passage so the soldiers could get to the machine guns and destroy them.  After clearing a passage, they used mine detectors and cleared an area so trucks, tanks etc. could come off the landing craft.  Going up and off the beach everyone seemed to be in shock with the carnage and to see dead bodies and wounded personnel, with some screaming in agony with their wounds.  At the top of the beach there was a long line of bodies in all positions to be taken away for burial.  When we left the beach the enemy shells and mortars were exploding just off the beach and according to records, over 200 craft and ships were sunk on D. Day and a few days after.  The German artillery and tanks kept up a continuous barrage, off the beach and we left the jeep and carried our wireless sets, to find targets for the Navy Battleships to shell.  We were ordered to find an observation post near Ouistream, at the extreme left flank of the invasion, at Sword Sector, as Germany artillery were causing havoc on and off the beaches.  A British Major told us the area where the guns were located and I contacted by radio, a British Monotar ship called the Lord Roberts, which carried 16 inch guns and the shells weighed about 2 tons each. 

 

We picked our target near some woods and the Lord Roberts, sent over the first shell.  This was the first time we had actually carried out a shoot and observing for a ship.  As the shell passed over our heads, it sounded like a train and soldiers and ourselves fell flat, expecting it to land of top of us, but it, in fact, exploded about ½ mile near the woods.  We then directed the next shell nearer the target.  The noise was horrendous and so terrifying but when in action there is not thing you can do but hope for the best.  The second shell landed on target so I then radioed F.E.M.U. i.e. Fire for Effect Multiple Units.  The ship then fired about 6 shells and after that, the enemy guns in that particular area were silenced.

 

Further along the beach, which had not been cleared of mines, we saw a flail tank which was a tank with an extension in front in the form of a roller, with long chains attached to the roller.  As the tank moved along the beach, the roller spun the chains on the sand exploding any mines hidden under the sand.  It was quite a sight to see but we had to get off the beach as quickly as possible because the beach was not a place to loiter. 

 

In the next few days, we observed and spotted targets for 2 British battleships namely HMS Warspite and HMS Ramillies.  We were amazed at the barrages these ships would send over and the noise and explosion of their shells.  They fired 15” guns and must have terrified the recipients.

 

We then returned to a village called Lion-Sur-Mer and were ordered to support tanks and infantry, which we found were British and the ploy was to go as far as possible to reach Caen.  We got about half way to Caen but the German resistance was so strong, we were stopped and dug slit trenches and fortified our position with tanks and infantry.  We were shelled and mortared all that night with the British Sherman tanks returning the fire.  We were all terrified with the noise but Gunnell completely broke down and lost his nerve.    He would have run back to the beach as he was so shell shocked, or as we say ‘Bomb Happy’.  This being Bomb Happy was not uncommon and it doesn’t mean the person is a coward, it’s just that he is so distraught with the noise, and it affects the mind and nerves, where they will either run or sit in a corner and shake like a leaf.  We managed to get him under control after a while but none of us slept a wink that night.  Just before dawn broke, we heard a shout of “stand by your guns” and this is an army warning, incase the enemy attack at dawn.  Thankfully, they did not and we were beside a tank and the gunner told us he was almost out of shells and if they didn’t arrive soon, they would have to retreat.  The ammunition trucks did get through eventually.  Medics were run off their feet, tending wounded and dead bodies were left where they fell to be picked up later.  I found we became rather callus and in seeing the bodies lying, we had that feeling of ‘To bad but better you than me’.  I know it sounds terrible to think such a thing but one had to brush it off rather than let it pray on ones mind.

 

We left a couple of days later to Luc-Sur-Mer and then along the coast road to Courseules-Sur-Mer and were surprised to see a number of ships sunk in a straight line, for about 1 mile and learned that they were old ships and deliberately sunk in a line, to allow supply ships to land goods etc. in calmer waters and where an artificial harbour could be built.  We met up with the Canadian troops, who were also trying to reach Caen with the same success as the British troops.  The Germans were heavily reinforcing that particular sector with such fierce fighting on both sides and we were unable to advance any further.  It was about 2 to 3 weeks later before we got to Caen but I’ll explain about the part we took later.

 

After about the 4^th day in Normandy and I’ve lost count of all the Navy ships we used, but one sticks in my mind.  It was the H.M.C.S. Algonquin, which we thought was a weird name for a ship.  We did a few shoots with the Algonquin, never thinking that some day our family, after migrating would spend many happy weeks camping and canoeing at Algonquin Conversation Area camp grounds.

 

I must relate an amusing story told by my Uncle, Drew Robertson, who had a great sense of humor and was never hesitant to tell stories about himself.  Drew was with the Scottish Horse and in his exact words, during the heavy fighting said “This is too dangerous, so I’m getting out of the way until things quiet down”.  There was a farm nearby, so Drew went into the barn and saw a ladder reaching up to a trap door. Drew climbed up the ladder, opened and closed the trap door and turned to find 3 German soldiers standing with their hand above their head indicating they wanted to surrender and become prisoners of war.   When Drew saw them, he dropped his rifle and put his hands over his head.  It must have been quite funny to see them all with their hands up.  Eventually, Drew understood that they wanted to be captured and all descended the ladder and Drew marched the 3 prisoners up the street to the admiration of his comrades.  They thought Drew had captured them on his own and for that day he was quite the hero.  Drew told this story so many times and always raised a laugh.

 

The stench of death was now nauseous as so many cattle and horses had been killed and in the fields their legs stood straight out and their bodies were all swollen and bloated.  It was sad to see these innocent animals.  You can imagine the panic they must have been in with shells and bombs landing in their midst.  Loving animals as I do, I just hate to think of it.

 

We then learned that our unit headquarters were in a small farm belonging to the Countess of Colville.  We arrived to meet some of our parties and all relating their experiences.  One of my good friends Larry Boyce, was in a stable, completely shell shocked in a corner.  He just stared at the wall and didn’t say a word.  Gunnel from our party was also a bag of nerves and our Skipper Captain Cameron, spoke to the Colonel and he and Larry were shipped back to hospital in England.

 

There was an orchard adjoining the Chateau, where we each dug a slit trench about 6 foot long and about 4 feet deep.  We lay down on a ground sheet to sleep fully clothed.  I think it was the 5^th day, when we arrived in Colville, having had our clothes on for 6 days.  I took one foot out of my boot as it was a bit tender but quickly put it back on again as the stink coming from my feet was nauseous.

 

The major and adjutant were there and every day, we were sent to different places to give support and informed of the battleships, cruisers or monitors that were available along with their radio call signs.

 

About noon one day, we were told to shell a position that was held by the paratroops but had been retaken by the Germans.  On the way we got in touch with a battleship and at a good spot for observing, we gave the ship the map reference and directed their shells.  After plastering the particular area, we received a signal from Colville, to cease fire, as the paratroops were about to retake that position.  We ceased fire and as always, thanked the ship for their support.  I will relate later in my memoirs what did happen in this actual shoot from a wounded paratroop about 3 months later on.

 

At last the big call out attack came to take the town of Caen, sometime in July.  Our party had to destroy 2 villages called Epron and Burron.  I’m not sure of the spelling of the villages.  We went to the front line beside some Canadian tanks with the skipper positioned behind the tanks gun turret. As we were about to commence the shoot some Canadian troops gathered round asking what we were going to do.   We told them we would destroy the villages with naval shells.  One of the troops said that he would give us a carton of Limey cigarettes for every shell we landed.  By this time, we were used to the train noise of the shell passing over and we were always amused to see the soldiers dive for cover.  Well we did flatten the villages and were surprised when all the soldiers beside us handed over cartons of “Limey Cigarettes”. We came back eventually to Colville with almost 6000 cigarettes.  After the shoot it was late in the evening and the German troops started to spray our area with machine gun fire and mortars and as it was too dangerous to try to get back to where we had left our jeep, we stayed in the front line all that night.    During the night, flares would light up to be followed by bursts of machine gun fire and with every few bullets a tracer bullet.  I thought it was a bit crazy as the tracer bullets gave an indication as to the whereabouts of the machine gun.  Eventually, I must have slept to be wakened with “stand by your guns”.  It was very misty and eerie that morning and then the skipper said we should crawl back to our jeep and get back to Colville.

 

That day the British and Canadian troops attacked Caen and yet again they could not break through the German lines.  When we arrived back at Colville, we had to turn around and join in the attack, giving as much support as we could.  It was just terrible for both sides with the Germans having the advantage as we found later the Tiger tanks were superior to the British Sherman’s and that the Tiger tanks had been dug in at the outskirts of Caen.

 

Shelling and mortaring went on all day with heavy casualties on both sides and after our experience the previous night, being stuck in the front line, I suggested to the skipper that we sleep in a farmhouse about ½ mile back.  This we did but I forgot to mention on our last return to Colville my wireless set was broken so I went to the Petty Officer in charge of supplies for another set.  The P.O. moaned that we were too careless and that I would sign for another set and to bring it back to him on my return.

 

It was dark when we arrived at the farmhouse but we quickly settled down to sleep on a stone floor with half a blanket under and the other half over our bodies.  I can assure you it was not very comfortable.  The skipper lay beside me but he had an officer’s valise, which was like a sleeping bag with zipper up to the neck.

 

Suddenly a shell landed on the roof of the house followed seconds later by another shell exploding at the back of the house blowing all the glass from the windows over Jamie.  As I sat up, I got a smash on the face with something hairy.  I grabbed and held on and almost immediately Jamie shone a touch and it was a goat terrified like me and in panic, I pushed it on top of the skipper who was trying to get out of his valise.  We laughed about it after as the goat was lying over his face and the skipper’s arms and feet were going like pistons trying to get the zip down so he could get out of his valise.  The goat suddenly jumped out over the window and we got most of the glass off Jamie, who then stuck his head out of where the window was and he was sick.

 

We didn’t sleep much after that but when dawn broke we went out to the jeep and the shell had landed near the back of our trailer and it was completely wrecked, as was my borrowed radio set.  The jeeps windshield was gone and large pieces of jagged metal where shrapnel had torn holes in the sides and also the wood at the side of the jeep.  The tires were still in tact and when I started the engine, it started first time.  The trailer was a write-off so the skipper said ‘lets go’.  I told him I was not going until I gathered some of the pieces left of the radio, which I did.  The other casualty in the wrecked trailer was the skippers primus stove, which he has used when in the Boy Scouts and now it had a hole where a piece of shrapnel from the shell had gone through it.  We had used it on numerous occasions to heat up a biscuit tin with water and make ourselves a mug of tea.  The Skipper was really upset over this and took the primus stove back with him.  Many years later the subject came up and he told me he had it repaired.  I guess it must be a relic now.

 

As we were about to leave, we were amazed to see what we were told was a 500 bomber raid on Caen.  The first lot dropped what we thought was a tinsel or silver paper to throw off the German radar and the planes came over about 5 deep in line and dropped their bombs.  It was quite a sight to see such a number of planes all peeling off to the right like disciplined soldiers.  The Germans opened up with anti-aircraft guns but only hit 2 planes.  One of the bombers turned to the left and then went down in flames and the other also turned left and went back with smoke coming from the engine and continued on as far as we could see.

 

We then left for Colville in our half wrecked jeep and all the guys were amazed at how lucky we had been.  I took the set back to the P.O. and dropped it on the floor saying he could have it back now.  When he saw it, he was dumb founded.  I then told him what had happened so everything was ok.  We got another jeep and trailer and of course a wireless set.  We only learned later, that we were apposed to the S.S. Panzer Division and the 59^th British and Canadian troops had to fight every inch of the way because of the fierce opposition to get to Caen.

 

Caen was taken that day and we were sent up the following day and shocked at the damaged caused, as I don’t think there was one building or home that had not suffered damage.  The French civilians had many killed and wounded in Caen and it was pathetic to see them as they searched among their shelled or bombed houses for their families and salvaging some possessions.  Some of the older people were just sitting on stones that had been their home, not knowing what to do and with shocked expressions on their faces.  We stopped beside an old man and the skipper spoke to him.  He replied that his wife and 2 daughters had been killed and did not know what he was going to do.  He said “C’est La Guerre”.  We were all saddened as we had part in Caens bombardment and wondered if they had been killed by the bombers, artillery or the horrible thought in our heads, that it could have been us that killed them.

 

On our way back to our jeep, to return to Colville, we walked past a field with German prisoners and at one end of the field, we were amazed to see some very young soldiers, in fact, they looked about 15/16 years of age. Some were crying and obviously very frightened and as we stopped to look at them, feeling sorry and sympathetic, one of them came forward and spat at us.  The sentry intervened very quickly pushing him back and asking us to move off.  Had the sentry not intervened, that kid would have been a very sorry little boy for his stupidity.  We were told these kids were attached to the SS Division and probably totally indoctrinated into the Nazi system.

 

The following day we were sent to support a Scottish regiment in an attack on a village.  The soldiers were the K.O.S.B (Kings Own Scottish Borders) and after shelling the village, we went in with them and were met with rifle fire and snipers. 

The skipper, Jamie and I went into a house to take cover and found a dead German soldier on the floor, however, we didn’t pay him much attention as there was a lot going on.  There was a church in the village with a tower attached, so the skipper and I ran to the church, which had been hit and the roof had caved in, but we made our way to the door of the tower.  The skipper opened the door and said he would be right at my back.  There was rubble and stones on the stairs and my biggest concern was that the skipper was at my back with a sten gun and if he slipped or stumbled on the stair, I would have had a few bullets up my rear end.  We made it safely to the top and peeped over to observe and pick a target.  As we did that, a bullet ricocheted off the parapet, so we made a hasty retreat back down the spiral staircase, as it was too dangerous.  The ground in that area was very flat, so we did our shoot from the attic in a house.  I picked up a lovely blue crystal bowl from that house, when we finished the shoot and put it on the floor of the jeep.  As we were about to leave the Germans started up a mortar attack and I slapped the jeeps gears into reverse and then forward.  My stolen beautiful crystal vase smashed into pieces as it landed on the floor of the jeep.

 

We suffered our second casualty the next day, as we had to support a Canadian attack north of Courseulles Sur-Mer.  We were in the middle of a shoot when German artillery opened up.  We immediately dived for shelter and our bombardier Fred Flynn, who drove the jeep that day dived over the wall of a ruined house and with no floor there, he landed face down into the cellar.  His arm was broken and his shoulder dislocated.  After the shelling let up, we came out of various slit trenches to carry on with the shoot and discovered Flynn was missing.  We had no idea where he was but carried on with the shoot.  The ambulance men were tending the wounded and one of them said one of our guys had been found in a cellar.    It was Flynn and by pure luck, he had been found.  He was taken away unconscious and we never did see or hear from him again.  After his arm and shoulder had healed, he was probably sent back to an artillery company.  It was really tough on him, as he did not come with us on many shoots as I nearly always did the driving.  We always referred to him as Fearless Freddy and he carried the Bren-gun.  That now left our party Fox9, with the Skipper (Capt. Cameron), Jamie and myself.

 

Another little incident happened one day as we were driving along one of the roads.  A German plane dived down and machine-gunned along the road we were traveling and as I was driving, I run the jeep alongside a fairly high wall. The plane hit a number of trucks but missed us.  As soon as I stopped my officer Captain Cameron shouted that he had been hit.  His thumb was bleeding badly from the first joint to his nail and he said he had been hit by one of the bullets.  It probably was but I was too busy trying to get alongside the wall for protection and it all happened in seconds.

 

I should mention the Countess of Colville’s chateau was being used as a first treatment centre something like “MASH” on T.V.  The ambulances or jeeps with stretchers would drop off wounded personnel who were immediately checked by doctors.  Sadly, the very seriously wounded with very little hope of survival would be put to one side and the salvable wounded would be taken quite soon into the Chateau.  Mostly the seriously wounded would again be checked and invariably the blanket would be pulled over their face.  If on the other hand they showed some improvement, they would then be rushed into the Chateau for surgery.

 

The farm, which was fairly small, had a couple or so stables a small farmhouse and a couple of sheds.  At the south side of the farm the Countess had cages of all sorts of rabbits and we were well warned to leave them alone especially those of us who might like rabbit pie.

 

At the east side there was the orchard, where we lived in slit trenches and on the odd occasion, when it rained, I had to sit on a board on top of my ground sheet and go to sleep sitting up with my back against the wet muddy end of the slit trench.  We were all so tired there was never any trouble going to sleep but in the morning it was a problem waking up.

 

In one of the sheds at the far end of the farm, we had our wireless sets and various pieces of equipment.  Because of our lack of sleep, we only did a half hour guard watch and about our 2^nd or 3^rd night in Colville, I got a shake to say it was my turn on duty.  Although we all had .38 revolvers, we used a sten gun on guard duty.  I never liked the sten gun even although it was a fairly good automatic.  For a change there was a deadly silence, with no gunfire or any noise and very eerie.  I happened to look at one part of the farm to see what I thought was a cigarette being smoked.  After a very short period, it glowed again.  My imagination started to play tricks as I thought it could be an enemy soldier or some crazed person looking at me in the dark.  In my deepest and toughest sounding voice I said something like "what are you doing there?”  There was no reply and I repeated my question and again no reply.  I don’t think I have ever been so scared in my life and as I said previously that I didn’t like the sten gun because sometimes it would jam.  It was pitch dark and this cigarette end would light up periodically.  In the shed there were some German rifles with bayonets attached.  I put down the sten gun and picked up the rifle holding it firmly with bayonet waist high.  I felt it was either this person, or me so I repeated my questions for the third time with no response.  I then lunged forward with the rifle and bayonet about 2 feet below the flickering light to get whoever it was in the stomach.  What a shock I got when I contacted mid air and landed on my face on a dung (manure) heap.  The flickering cigarette light was in fact a firefly.  The next day, when I saw the dung heap, I just couldn’t get over the frightening time it had given me through the night.  I can laugh when I relate this story but believe me it was one of the more serious nights I ever spent.

 

One morning we came back to Colville after being out the previous night and I mentioned we had done a shoot at the front observing from a farm and mentioned there were some ducks and chickens running around.  As our rations were pretty poor, somebody suggested why don’t we scrounge some potatoes and have a good feed.  Somebody knew where there were vegetables and cider and asked Jamie and I if we would bring back some ducks or chickens.  This we did by catching 4 ducks and 2 chickens and cutting off their heads with our killing knives.

 

Not liking any sort of foul, I said that I would clean and cook them.  We plucked off the feathers and cleaned them out.  We had biscuit tins and filled them with water and popped in a duck or chicken in each.  We had a number of paraffin stoves and put the tins on to boil adding as an after thought, a helping of salt. One of the telegraphists was put in charge of the spuds and turnips were the vegetable.  After boiling for quite a long time I pulled up one of the chicken legs and it came off so let the feast begin. As we were dishing out the meal Colonel Seccombe came in on a jeep and when he saw the ducks and chickens, asked where they came from.  I said I was coming back to Colville when a soldier at the side of the road stopped me and asked if I could use some ducks and chickens, so I accepted his kind gift and brought them here.  The colonel said it was a likely story but he would not investigate further if he could join in the party.  We gave him a piece of both and he was delighted. He left later and returned with a bottle of scotch for us.

 

I say this in all modesty but Colonel Seccombe made no secret in that Captain Cameron’s party Fox 9 was the number one party in the unit as we had carried out more successful shoots than any other party.  This actually caused a bit of jealousy with the other parties.

 

One day Colonel Seccombe came into our quarters absolutely furious as the previous night there had been heavy enemy shelling in his area and he had dived for cover, into a slit trench to discover there was about 2 or 3 inches of water and mud at the bottom.  His uniform was still wet and muddy.  He found there was a cruiser on bombardment duty and he was going to do a shoot to return the enemy hospitality.  The Colonel asked one of the telegraphists to get in contact with the cruiser and after trying for about 15 minutes and the Colonel breathing down his neck, said that he could not reach them.  The Colonel was about to burst and said to me to contact the cruiser.  It must have been pure luck as I think the ships telegraphist, just switched on his wireless set, as I was about to transmit.  I immediately got a reply, much to our telegraphists disgust and told the Colonel, I thought the ships radio had just been switched on.  I don’t think he believed me but that was another one up for Fox 9.  He went out with another party and returned with a satisfied look on his face.

 

The adjutant Captain Rocky Tait was a bit of a disciplinarian and seemed to rub all the wrong way.  Even with the officers, there seemed to be a bit of tension, as he never left Colville.

 

One morning I wakened early and went to the army cookhouse, next door and had a mug of tea.  When I finished, I scrounged another mug full for the skipper who was still in his slit trench.  As I was passing Captain Tait asked me where I was going with a mug of tea, as we were entitled to only one mug of tea per person, for breakfast. I told him it was for Captain Cameron as he would have half a mug and I would have the other half and when we went for breakfast, we would just have half a mug each.  That put his light in a peep.  He then said that nobody gave him tea in the morning and as politely as I could, I told him there would be a blue moon in the sky before I would do it for him and left quickly.  The skipper told us later that morning that Tait had told him his telegraphists were a couple of communists and to stay out of his way.  If he were in our vicinity, Jamie would say “Comrade Scott” to which I would reply “Yes Comrade Jamieson”.  We just got dirty looks.  Another run in with Captain Tait happened later that week.  Our party had taken over one of the small rooms in the yard and we used it for eating, when in Colville.  We procured (stole) a table, chairs and a rug and our party were often joined by another couple of Captains and we were all friendly and enjoyed each other’s company.

 

I happened to be alone in the room one day, when Captain Tait came in and as always, with his usual snotty manner.  He said that this looks very comfortable and I think I will use it for an officer’s mess.  My back got up and I told him it would be over my dead body and I would smash the chairs before we would let our room be used as an officer’s mess.  I realized I should not have spoken to him in that manner, but he made me so angry.  Captain Tait then told me he could have me court marshaled for that and as I was still pretty angry, I told him he could do that if he wanted as unlike him, we were in the front line nearly every day and I would be much safer behind barbed wire than facing the dangers of the front lines.  He just turned and walked away without a word but I believe the skipper later gave him a good tonguing and with us being the Colonels favorite party, he left us alone.  In actual fact, when I was being de-mobbed, after the war, he came up to me and shook my hand wishing me all the best, so it was good to know we parted as friends.

 

We came back one evening and Major Arnold told us that the Colonel had suggested our party go to a rest centre as we had been in action so often and we were, I supposed getting a bit jumpy.

 

The rest center was a field with tents beside an orchard in a very small village called Amble.  There was already another F.O.B. party in Amble and the first indication I had that they were there, was when I was standing in the orchard admiring the surroundings, I got a thump on the back of my head with a small apple, thrown by one of my unit pals, Tommy Tucker.  We were exchanging the usual pleasantries when a Tel. Leading hand from another unit blasted Tommy for destroying property.  As I was not wearing my battle dress blouse at the time, I told him I was also leading hand and to mind his own business.  That of course was a lie, which caused me a problem later on, which I will relate on my return to the U.K.

 

Amble was quite peaceful and as we were in the village, we spoke to some Canadians, who were in the R.C.C.S (Royal Canadian Corp of Signals).  I told them I had a good friend who spent all his leaves at our house in Scotland.  I told them his name was Paul Bohonis and to my surprise, they told me he was in a tent in another field.  I found the tent and he was absolutely dumb founded, as the last time I saw Paul I was in the Royal Navy uniform and here was me now in Army battledress.  He had been in Normandy for only a couple of weeks and as I told him what we had been doing he said that they had not seen any action since they arrived.  I rather stupidly told him and his friend that if they wanted, I would drive them up to near the front line in my jeep.  When I came to pick them up, Paul had his rifle and a bandolier of bullets over his shoulder.  It was amusing to me but I did drive them near the front and in the distance, we saw some shells bursting, so as I was not to keen to hang around and told them we might be spotted, another lie and we better get back, which they were happy to do.

 

On our return, all his buddies came into the tent with bottles of Calvados Brandy and we drank and yakked for a long time.  On the way back to my tent, I was so sick and glad to get to sleep.

 

The next morning, the skipper said we had a recall to go back to Ouistrehem as enemy forces were congregating for an attack.  When we arrived at Ouistrehem, we left the jeep behind and our O.P. (Observations Post) was in a German pillbox, but to get there we had to go over a barbed wire fence, which was partly down.  The skipper ran first with me following with the 68 wireless set on my back and then Jamie.  As I was going over the wire, a barb caught my trouser leg and as I panicked and pulled to get free, tore part of my trouser leg, leaving a piece on the wire.  We were fully exposed to the enemy crossing the wire thus my frantic effort to get free.

The thickness of the walls in the pillbox was about 6 feet thick and a periscope just like in a submarine was at the centre of the room.  We were able to survey all around and in perfect safety.  We noticed flashes of German artillery in the distance and contacted a battleship and concentrated on fire on that particular area.  The next day we were told of a large gun that was suspected of being on rail tracks or mobile tracks, like a tank.  To do the shoot, we had to use L.C.G.s (Landing Craft Guns), which I think, had only a couple of 25 pounders but the craft could come into shallow water.  We eventually spotted the mobile gun, which opened up on the L.C.G.s and one was hit at the bridge and badly damaged.  We directed the other L.C.G.s fire but the mobile gun had again disappeared.  We never did find the gun but I expect it was destroyed in the next British advance.  

 

I learned from my old friend Mac that Ginger had been the telegraphist on an L.C.G, which had been hit at Ouistrehem and badly wounded on the head.  He had been taken to a hospital in Portsmouth and died a week later.  When on holiday, after the war, I went to see his parents and his mother asked me if he had suffered but I told her he was killed instantly, which I think eased her mind.

 

At the back of the pillbox, there was a kennel with a German Shepherd guard dog and about ½ dozen puppies.  It was so fierce and although I tried to make friends, it would have torn me apart had I got too near.  I guess it would have to be shot, as I believe it would now be untamable.  A lovely dog but putting it down would be the only way.

 

As the allies were now moving inland and getting out of range of most of the battleships, about early September, our units were ordered to return to U.K.  Only our party had to stay behind because we were the most experienced.  It was, as we expected, Fox 9 with Captain Cameron and telegraphists Scott and Jamieson.  We were quite disappointed we were staying but we moved from our muddy dirty slit trenches into the little room we had been using at the farm and slept on straw.  We managed to clean and wash our clothes, as we probably washed our shirts and socks about every other week or more, since landing.  We must have had terrible body odor but nobody seemed to notice it as there was such a smell of death from dead cattle, horses and bodies decaying under bombed or shelled ruins.  The terrible smell of death, I don’t think will ever leave me.

 

Water was quite a problem but when possible, we would fill our water bottles and drop in a couple of pills to purify the water, which tasted like chlorine and followed by another couple of pills to take away the taste.  In action there are no toilets, so we had an entrenching tool which was used to dig slit trenches and that was mostly used to dig a hole to do ones daily deposit.

 

Our rations were called Compo and there was food for so many days, according to how many people.  Unlike the American troops, we were very poorly fed but with enough to keep us going.  We were rationed to 5 cigarettes per day and 3 pieces of toilet paper, which brought up the saying of  “one up, one down and one polisher”.  We were fortunate with cigarettes as the Canadians kept us well supplied.

 

I should mention that when our unit left for U.K., a Major Thompson took over and he was a great officer and took an interest in our party.  I would go to a farm and get some eggs and he would join us for meals, when possible.  Major Thompson had the M.C. (Military Cross) decoration for bravery and was also a paratrooper.  Jamie and I were so lucky to be with 2 officers, Captain Cameron and Major Thompson, who were so decent and treated us as friends and not just as soldier/sailors.  On most of our shoots the skipper would ask our opinion as to what we thought of his decisions and if we came up with a better idea he would go along with it. Some of the Captains were disliked by their party as being too dictatorial and inconsiderate.

 

One day Major Thompson told me to come with him as he was taking 2 jeep trailers to some depot. He hooked the trailers one behind the other to the jeep. When I saw him do it I told him he could only take one at a time.  He said that was nonsense and that he would drive.  He went round a corner a bit too fast and both trailers tipped over and finished across the road.  He drew me a look as to not dare say anything, when a staff car drew up beside us and this very toffee nosed Captain jumped out and looked at me asking ‘were you driving this jeep’?  Before I could reply, Major Thompson with a beetroot coloured complexion stuck his face almost against the staff officers face and said “I’m Major so and so Thompson and I was driving, so get into your staff car and take off.  The other officer said “poor show” and took off, Major Thompson looked at me and laughingly said; “I guess you were right”.

 

We did one more shoot and on our return to Colville, we found there another F.O.B. party, who were sent to relieve us. Recently, I read an article in a book called “Normandy” about the effect of naval bombardments where our units were involved.  It read as follows:  Another potent weapon for the allies was their big naval guns, which from the start of the invasion played an important part in supporting the ground forces in the bridgehead.  The Germans were awed by the massive carpet of fire, which could be laid by the British and American battleships and cruisers stationed off shore.  Even the elite Panzer troops, accustomed to heavy artillery barrages on the Russian front, found the hard pounding by the large caliber naval guns an unexpectedly terrifying experience. Panzer columns were often pinned down for hours by the merciless shelling.  In fact, Rommer’s reason for wanting to withdraw his troops further inland was to put them out of range of allied warships.  The role of he allied navies in helping to break down the German resistance cannot be overestimated.

 

 In no time we were packed and boarded an L.C.I.(L) and landed in the morning on the Isle-of-Wight.  From the Chateau, I picked up a German helmet with a hole caused by shrapnel as a souvenir.

 

We were met by a truck, which conveyed us to an other holiday camp outside Cowes, called HMS Vectus and at Gurnard.  Our unit had come down from Dundonald and they brought down our kit bags.  The first thing we did was to get rid of our clothes and for the first time in 4 months, we had a shower.  It felt great and we donned our clean clothes from our kit bag.  Just prior to our shower, one of our unit had been a barber, so Jamie and I had a hair cut.  Our old uniform shirts and socks went into the garbage.

 

It was great to join our old unit again, and we were told passes were being made out for us to have a well-earned leave.  We then heard about our units casualties, where one of the parties had been wiped out with one of our own shells, killing the five F.O.B.s  Another party had three killed, including the officer.   The remaining telegraphist, Ron Batson, carried out some shoots on his own and was awarded the D.C.M. (Distinguished Conduct Medal).  Apart from us losing Flynn and Gunnel, we heard about different people in the unit being wounded.  We knew about Jock Smith being killed on the beach but coming to mind, one of the telegraphists, Spike Hughes was under a mortar attack and ran to a locked door for shelter.  When he could not get in, he crouched down and a mortar exploded and shrapnel went through both cheeks of his rear end.  He told us later he could only sleep face down in the hospital for about 5 weeks.  He was given a wound stripe, worn on his uniform and if any females asked where he was wounded, he got very embarrassed, especially when we told him to drop his pants and show them his wound.

 

One of the worst wounds we saw was on Spud Murphy’s back, where shrapnel had gouged a great hole, which had removed most of his flesh on one side and some of his muscles.  He could not carry out his duties as an F.O.B. and I understand he was sent to a shore station and no active service.

 

Our unit we reckoned had 30/40 percent killed or wounded and in a small unit, that was a lot.  We both thought we had come through all of this uninjured apart from bumps and bruises.

 

After we ironed our shirts and uniform, we felt great for a change.  We then received our leave passes and joined the skipper and sailed across from Ryde to Portsmouth.  We then traveled by train to London, arriving about lunch time and after a bite to eat, said cheerio to Jamie, who wanted to see some relations before going home to Dumfries.  The skipper and I went to a movie and passed the time as our respective trains left about 8:00 p.m.  The skipper was going to Inverness via Edinburgh, where I was catching a train to Glasgow.

 

I mentioned earlier where we had done a shoot where the Germans had retaken the paratroop position and we had to shell the area and then were signaled to cease fire as the paratroops were about to attack and recapture that position.

 

Sitting in the train to Glasgow, there was a wounded paratrooper wearing his hospital blues. I asked him what had happened to him and he told me that there was a German attack and they had to retreat from their position, however, shortly after they counter attacked and retook that area.  As they were advancing a naval warship shelled their area killing a number of our troops and that was when he was wounded. I can’t remember the exact date of that action but it must have been about the middle of June and it was our party Fox 9 that was involved in that shoot but we were unaware the paratroops were retaking the position and ceased fire, when we received the order.  It was like getting a kick in the stomach, when you hear of an incident like that but we were only obeying orders. When he asked me what unit I was in, I had to admit I was an observer/telegraphist in a naval bombardment unit, but did not tell him that our party was responsible.  It was unfortunate that we were not nearer to see our troops but in a battle, one can’t tell if they are our troops or not and to repeat myself, we just carrier out orders.

 

The train seemed to take ages to get to Glasgow, arriving about 6:00 a.m. and I then boarded the Possilpark tram to my house.  What a feeling it was to at last ring my own doorbell.  My father opened the door and shouted to my mother, who was still in bed. My Mother ran to greet me and to use a Scottish expression, began to greet (cry).  My father surprised me when he whispered in my ear “are you lousy son”.  He was relating back to W.W.1, when the soldiers were in the trenches and their uniforms were full of lice.  I think he was quite relieved when I told him no.

 

I ate a hearty breakfast and slept until late afternoon.  My father did not go to work and my Uncle Davie, Aunt and cousin Norma came over for tea (Canadian supper).  Naturally, they were asking all about the war in Normandy and all of a sudden I began to shake and almost spilled my tea.  I put it down to nerves, as I had just come from being in action in Normandy and a couple of days later I was sitting in my own house having a meal.  I rose quickly from the table and went into the kitchen and I remember leaning on the kitchen sink and pressing down as hard as I could on the edge.  My father came into the kitchen and I asked him to leave me, as I would be all right.  In no time, I seemed to settle down but felt very embarrassed when I came back to the table. After that, I was fine and enjoyed my meal and we all spent a good evening.

 

A few days later a telegram arrived addressed to me and my face dropped as I thought it was a recall.  It was from Jamie asking if I would be his best man as he and his fiancé decided to marry.  I agreed and traveled to Dumfries as best man at the wedding.  It was a good wedding with plenty to eat and drink.

 

When I came back from Dumfries, I received another telegram, this one from my skipper, Capt. Alex Cameron, who, unknown to me, had also been married and wanted me to meet his new bride, Wilma.  I met the happy couple and we had afternoon tea in the ‘Cadora’ tearooms in Glasgow. Wilma and Alec, I might add, remained our friends for life and Wilma sadly passed away last year.  When the skipper died 4 years ago, I flew home to his funeral in respect of our life long friendship.

 

Leave was over, so back to the Isle of Wight, to another holiday camp, taken over by the forces.  All the holiday camps were taken over by the forces and were pre-war built and owned by Billy Butlin and jokingly we called ourselves ‘Butlins cowboys’.

 

This camp was the best I had been in and we lived in chalets and I shared one with Jamie.  As a party in another unit had been taken prisoner, the Colonel thought it would be a good exercise to have an escape scheme.  The army and paratroops, who were stationed in the area had to try to capture us and take us prisoner.

 

The exercise was to leave our camp with a half-mile circular area free and make our way to a certain point on the other side of the island. The instructions to us was “reach target by any method”, which meant we had to get to the target evading the search parties looking for us.

 

We set off in small groups with some going individually and as the unit H.Q. was in Cowes, I suggested to our party, we steal the Colonels staff car to reach our objective. They said okay but I had to drive the colonels car.  His car was in the parking area so we jumped in and I drove to our objective, had our papers signed to say we had accomplished our mission and drove back.  The poor driver of the car was blasted by the Colonel for not taking out the rotor arm, which would have made it inoperable.  The Colonel was pleased with our initiative in doing this but all future orders read, “by any method except the Colonels staff car”.

 

We had many tough schemes in all sorts of weather but the most enjoyable schemes were like a paper chase, where we used our jeeps.  We were given a map reference, where we had to find the next clue.  For example, we had one I remember “on the grid line 8 you will find the next clue where the ash and the oak meet”.  Another clue, which comes to mind, was on a map ref. given and the clue was ‘beside the bones of William Jones, you will find the next clue”.  The map reference was a cemetery, so we had to scout around for the William Jones grave.  This caused a terrific rivalry between the parties, but was good fun.

 

Another exercise one night was we had to be driven to a certain place and make our way back into the camp, which was heavily guarded by sentries.  As the trucks set out, Jamie and I jumped off and sneaked into the back of the camp and into our chalet, as the sentries had not yet taken up position.  We figured it would take about 3 hours for the parties to attempt to get in, so we waited and then reported to the guardroom that we had broken into camp.  The other units were all caught with Jamie and I being successful. We kept mum about what we did but did tell the skipper, who was quite taken aback and told us not to tell anyone about it.

 

On one scheme, the rain was torrential and as we were going over rough countryside, I put on my sea boots (wellies).  It so happened we had to travel on foot for about 8 miles and when I got back to camp, my feet felt as on fire.  I never used wellies again.

 

Our next jaunt was to an artillery range to practice with 25 pounders.  That was the weight of the shell.  We were used to observing shells weighing 2 tons.  We were there for only a couple of days. I had kept my navel duffel coat and put it on buttoned to my neck.  I had about 4 or 5 on the jeep and pulled up beside a sergeant major.  I innocently asked where we were to go and he looked at me and snapped off a salute, thinking because of the duffel coat, I must be an officer.  I returned his salute and he said he would be delighted to show us.  The 25 pounder gun was explained to us and I kept being called Sir.  Our guys were trying to keep straight faces but as the day wore on, it became quite warm and I was scared to take off the coat, as I would have been in deep trouble.  After we left, we laughed all the way back to camp.

 

Arriving back from the artillery range, we were told that we would be losing our jeeps and to be replaced with heavily armoured half-tracks.  The half tracks duly arrived later and I was driving our jeep along the road when I saw Major Thompson standing beside a half track and he waved me down to stop.  He then told me he wanted to take the jeep and for me to take the half-track.  As I had never even been in a half-track, I told him I had no driving instructions yet, so he would have to drive it whatever.  With a smile on his face, he said he was pulling rank on me and that he was having a problem with it so it’s over to you to bring it back.

 

The gears were not syncromeshed and had to be double declutched when changing and to certain revolutions, which was initially so difficult to learn but after mastering the gears, it was fairly easy.  There was also beside the gear stick a winch stick, which controlled a winch at the front of the half track, which was there if the half track became bogged down or to pull out any other truck, if necessary.

 

I started the engine and set off to find it stalled every few yards and then I discovered the hand brake had not been released.  After much gear grinding, I eventually made it back to camp.  In no time I was very proficient in driving the track and of all the trucks or vehicles, I enjoyed this armored car the best.  It was governed to a maximum of 35 miles per hour but in going at that speed, it was quite exhilarating.  When the armour plating was raised at the doors and down on the windshield, there was only a slit about 4”x8” to look through, which made judgment of width very difficult.  At the front of the track, the winch extended about another 2 ½ feet adding to further difficulty.  Fortunately, I only had to drive about half a dozen times like that.

 

As I was the only one in our party to drive the half track, the skipper said that he would like to have a go, so I adjusted the seat and like myself, when I first drove, there was an almighty grinding of gears as we got going.  The skipper was doing well and we drove through a small village.  As was the skipper’s habit from driving in convoy, he always kept telling me to close up, which meant almost tailgating the vehicle in front.  A convoy was always slow and especially in night driving as we had no headlights and only a small blue light, so if you lagged behind, it was easy to get lost.  We came up to a cross road with the lights at red and a jeep with two military policeman were stopped waiting for the green.  The skipper being used to the jeep and only seeing the 4 feet of the armored hood forgot about the other 2 ½ feet of the winch and banged into the back of the jeep knocking the M.P.s hats off and no doubt giving them a good bit of whiplash.  The M.P.s jumped out of the jeep furious and holding their necks, however, the skipper jumped out of the track making sure they saw his three pips (Captain) apologized and we took off with more gear grinding.  It was really quite funny to me but not to the M.P.’s.  In no time, the skipper mastered the half-track.

 

I think the half-track to drive was one of the most difficult, with the exception perhaps of a tank or bren gun carrier.  When we arrived back to the Isle of Wight, we learned of another fatality when one of the telegraphists was driving a jeep back to our camp.  His name was Nigel and I forget his family name, however, he was speeding down a hill with a bad turn at the bottom and I understand he hit the curb or pavement and the jeep overturned landing on top of him.  He was killed instantly.  Nigel, after being in Normandy and having come through unscathed, we were all so sorry he had to die in a car accident.

 

We then went back to the Isle of Wight to learn Major Arnold had been transferred to another unit and Major Thompson was now our commanding officer.

 

During our stay in Normandy, we had to change our observation positions as the German R.D.F. (Radio Direction Finding) were plotting where we were operating from and within about 10 minutes, they would start to shell or mortar our position.  The skipper and I, as always, worked together and because of the efficiency of the German R.D.F., we would give Jamie our target and observations and after the first navy shell, Jamie would take off in the jeep and transmit to the battleship, further along the road and return to us before the area he was in was shelled.  This was quite a common occurrence with our other parties in our unit.

 

One day Mayor Thompson spoke to the skipper with Jamie and myself in attendance and said that the Colonel had ordered us to a small town called Ashford, where there was an experimental wireless station, which employed civilian specialists in that field and guarded by army soldiers.  As an operational party, we would test the wireless sets to find out if they were suitable for an F.O.B.’s use. We found the experiment was to use a wireless set but the transmission would carry for a few hundred yards from where the actual signal would be sent.  It simply meant that we hit the morse key and the transmission happened about 2 or 3 hundred yards away.  This was to combat the R.D.F. and make life a bit easier during a shoot.

 

For these exercises, we had a radio truck, at times toured around the Windsor area. The truck was driven by a Royal Marine.  We had no idea what the specialists had done to the wireless sets but whatever was altered it worked.  On this trip we had a sergeant come with us and as we were in civilian billets, with Jamie and I staying with a Mrs. Beer and the sergeant and the skipper in different billets, we would make our way to the wireless station by jeep.  One day Sgt. Shaw asked me to run him to the army pay corps for his money, which I did and he wanted to drive the jeep back. He was a tall man with big feet and as we were coming into our workplace, a sentry jumped out and the sergeant lifted his foot off the accelerator to brake but the welt of his boot caught the bottom of the brake and he jammed his foot down on the accelerator.  The sentry was bowled over and taken to hospital.  Nothing evolved over this as it was an accident but after that incident the sentries waved us through from the side.

 

Another day I had to go to Staines and found my jeep jammed behind a large truck and as I couldn’t get out, I jumped into the trunk and as it was on a slope.  I put the gear into neutral and it coasted forward towards a wall.  I then put my foot on the brake, which did not work and run into the wall knocking a part down.  The truck had air brakes, which I had never heard of and they would only work if the engine was on.  I took off smartly and on my return, a sergeant had the drivers at the truck asking who had forgot to put on the hand brake.  Again, I took off smartly as I played mister innocent.

 

The radio truck driven by the marine had a small radio and in general conversation, we said we wouldn’t mind taking it back with us.  It came over the loud speaker for telegraphists Scott and Jamieson to report to the guardroom.  When we got there, the marine was standing in the office with the duty officer, who told us he had been caught taking this radio out of camp.  His excuse was that the telegraphists were going to take it and he wanted to beat them to it.  The skipper heard us being summoned and came into the guardhouse, just as we were about to be questioned.  He was furious and told the duty officer that his boys would not do anything like that and we were dismissed.  We all came out together and the skipper said that we better not take it after all this fuss.

 

We then returned to Isle of Wight to more schemes, which took us all over the island to Newport, Shanklin, Ryde, Vennor and many more places.  The paratroops stationed at Parkhurst, which is now a prison, joined us in many schemes and we got on well, until one night 3 or 4 of our unit got past the sentries and took their mascot, which was a large dog, back to our camp and left word for someone to come and get it.  It was supposed to be all in fun but the Colonel or Brigadier in charge of the camp, were furious that we could sneak in past his sentries and do such a thing.  As far as I knew, the sentries were all put on a charge and punished over this escapade.  We all agreed it was a stupid thing to do and we found our relationship with the Para’s rapidly deteriorated.

 

We were challenged to a soccer game by the Para’s and knew we would be in for a tough and not too clean game, however, we accepted and formed a team against them.  Major Thompson came up to me and said that he wanted to play but we knew he had only played rugby and never football.  He insisted and being a Major, we put him at the outside left and planned to keep the ball away from him.  Everything was going smoothly until the ball landed beside the major and the opposing left back.  The major went into him like a steam train and flattened him.  It was, of course, a foul but the back was so angry he was for having a go at the major and he would be in big trouble if he tried anything.  We did our best to keep the ball away so peace prevailed.

 

A few days later Major Thompson, told me the colonel wanted to form 2 or 3 parties into paratroop F.O.B.’s and this appealed to me and I said to put our party down for the course.  At the back of my mind was an extra 6 pence per day.  When I told the Skipper and Jamie what I had done, they both blew their stacks and said in no uncertain way our party were not joining the proposed Para unit.  As I did not want to leave my two comrades in arms, I regretfully had to tell the Major our party was not volunteering.  If I had gone on the course, as I had wanted to, I would have been attached to another officer and a different party, besides the Skipper and Jamie has just been married, so I guess they had more sense than me.

 

A couple of parties left for a weeks Para course at Ringway in Manchester and returned with their paratroop wings making me feel a bit envious.  It was seemingly a very tough course and at the end they had to do 3 jumps.  The first was from a balloon, which they all agreed was the most difficult and then a plane jump and finally a night plane jump, was the easiest as it was dark and they landed correctly, not tensing up, as they could not see the ground.  In one respect, they were very lucky as they were not involved in any action and remained grounded in U.K. until the war ended.

 

Being a sailor soldier paratroop was really quite something and they were always being asked, especially by females, what they did and with a straight face, they would tell them they would be dropped by parachute over an enemy warship and capture the vessel.  The crazy thing was that about half of the females believed them.

 

One morning Major Thompson asked me to go with another 2 Telegraphists to a small airport not far from where we were stationed and on the coast.  He said that there were a couple or so army pilots who flew as observers for army artillery and somebody had the bright idea they might be useful for naval bombardments. We had to act the part of an observer and converse in R.T. (Radio Talk) with the pilot then relay the information to the ship using the morse code.  I thought it was a crazy idea and as far as I know the idea was dropped.

 

When we finished a pilot Major thanked us and asked if any of us would like to up for a short flight.  As I had never been in a plane before, I said I would like to go so we took off in a 2 seater Auster Cub, where I sat beside the pilot.  It was very noisy and he was speaking to me.  I motioned that I could not hear him and he shut off the engine.  It was quite bumpy and I was concerned that the engine would start again.  It did start but I realized later that probably pilots did that for fun to scare passengers like me on their first flight.

 

The next incident to come to hand was a troop of beach Commandos arrived at our camp, which incidentally was called H.M.S. Vectus and to call them scum would have been a compliment.  They were filthy, no manners at the table and all trying to intimidate by being tough.  Well, they met their match with our outfit as we had in our unit, three professional boxers.  An Irish heavy weight called Paddy Ryan and two middleweights, Groves and Spartley.  Groves was ironing a shirt when one of the Commandos said that he wanted to borrow the iron.  Groves told him “no” as it belonged to our unit and no way was he getting it.  The guy then put both hands on the table and said, “I’m taking the iron”.  Groves then said “ok” and put the iron on top of his hand leaving a V shaped burn on top.  Most of our units were there at the time to back Groves up but nothing happened, then Groves carried on ironing as if he hadn’t a care in the world. The Commandos moved out after a couple of days but as I learned later, one of them stole my revolver from the armory.

 

One rather stupid scheme we were on was in Cowes and it was a street fighting, where we had to go along the streets and dodging into doorways etc. to advance to the enemy and give each other pretend covering fire.  A bunch of school kids arrived and they were having a great time by joining in and eventually the scheme was called off.  It was at the least, embarrassing.

 

It was Xmas eve and a bunch of my pals were going for a drink to the local pub in Gurnard and although I didn’t drink then, they coaxed me to come along.  We were all sitting in the lounge, about 5 or 6 of us, when in walked Major Thompson with a lady.  He came over and told her “these are my boys and the best”.  He then ordered a pint of beer for each and for me a double scotch.  After he left, I got a ribbing as to being the Major’s favourite.  The next morning I realized why I had been given the double Scotch.

 

At 5:00 a.m. on Xmas morning the sergeant wakened up Jamie and myself telling us to get up now as we were going on a job overseas.  After telling him to take a running jump, we realized he was serious and after a quick wash, we tried to get something to eat but the cookhouse was closed and we were joined by another 2 bombardiers and a mechanic.  The mechanic had an oriental look on his face, so everyone called him Tojo, who in fact, was a Japanese general.  He never took offence and the two bombardiers were Ken Weston and Old Tom.  I never knew Old Tom’s family name.  He was probably in his mid thirties, which to us was pretty old.

 

By this time we had all our equipment on – battle pack etc. and they went to the armory to collect our weapons.  The bombardiers had sten guns where we had revolvers.  I couldn’t find my revolver as one of the beach Commandos had taken it or as we suspected.  I had to be armed so I saw a revolver that had a cocking handle and with the normal revolver, one pressed the trigger and fired in one motion, whereas with the cocking handle, you could pull the firing pin back and a light pressure on the trigger it would fire.  It was a more accurate way to shoot, as the revolver was very steady aiming at your target.

 

Just about a week before we were issued with sheepskins fastened by a toggle and the fleece was worn inside and the skin outside.  It had no sleeves but was very warm.  I bought a tin of brown shoe polish and rubbed it on the skin and using a brush had a nice tan colour on the skin.  As I said earlier, we were not issued with great coats, so the sheepskin was a lifesaver as it was winter with snow on the ground.  Like Normandy, we mostly wore a khaki toque and as a scarf, we used a small camouflage square.  I also acquired a shirt and tie, which was really for army officers.

 

We jumped into the back of a 15 C.W.T. truck and went down the road to a house where the skipper and Mrs. Cameron had rented a room.  I went to the door to be met by the skipper and poor Mrs. Cameron, who was in a terrible state, crying.  I went up to her and said, “don’t you worry Mrs. Cameron, and I’ll look after your wee man”.  She then put her arms round me and said “Oh thank you Scottie, please look after Alec”.  I told her not to worry and she seemed quite relieved after I said that.  It gave me a good feeling but if we go into action anything can happen, so I just hoped for the best.

 

We then traveled to Rhyde and crossed in the ferry at Portsmouth and then to Dover.  We stopped in Brighton for something to eat but all the shops were closed.  We eventually saw a newspaper shop and it had small packets of potato chips, so we had a packet each and that was our Xmas dinner.

 

In the afternoon we reached Dover and a motor torpedo boat was waiting to take us across the channel to Ostend.  They were good enough to give us a cup of tea – big deal, but no grub.  It was quite rough the crossing, with Tojo and the bombardiers looking a big green but not sick.

 

When we arrived at Ostend, we were driven to a hotel called L’hotel Aviation, something like that and our sleeping quarters were in the attic, which was thick with dust.  I don’t think it had been cleaned in years.

 

We had breakfast in the hotel and then the skipper arrived with a jeep.  We seemingly had relieved another bombardment unit, whom we never met but the skipper drove us to an underground garage, where there were 4 half tracks and 2 jeeps. 

 

While we were in the garage one morning a large truck came in with a one man German submarine on board and stopped under a block and tackle.  We came over and watched as a royal Navy Officer, who was accompanied by naval police, opened the hatch of the submarine.  We were told the sub had been caught in the anti-sub nets in the harbour and had been there for about a couple of months.  One of the police covered his nose with a scarf and went down the hatch tying a rope round the submariners feet.   This rope was attached to the block and tackle and he was pulled out gently and lowered on to the side of the truck.

 

What a terrible death being stuck in the nets and unable to get out and gradually suffocating with lack of air.  The smell in the garage from the body was quite sickening.

 

 We then learned that the Germans had broken through the allied lines in a final effort and this was called “The Battle of the Bulge”.  We had been sent over to pick up these half tracks and jeeps as they belonged to the bombardment units and drive them to Bregen-op-Zoom in Holland which was to be our headquarters.  Tojo, the mechanic, had been sent with us to check and repair the engines, if required.  As it was two tracks had to be towed with the windshield taken out.  The poor bombardiers were in the towed machines, open to the freezing elements and covered with muck, thrown up by the half-track in front doing the towing.  The skipper and I drove the two jeeps.  We went through Belgium and eventually arrived at Bergen-op-zoom, where we parked at the back of a school.  A little sentry came up to us after we had parked the vehicles and told us to turn them the other way facing outwards. We were all dirty, tired and hungry and told him where to go!!  He then told us that the Germans were on the other side of the Zoom (water) about half a mile away.  In no time all the vehicles were facing outwards, as he suggested.   This place was actually the playground and we saw a cookhouse in one of the corners, where we managed to get some supper in our mess tins and a cup of tea.

 

We then proceeded up the school stairs to a classroom with a pot bellied stove and in the room were 3 telegraphist sailors, who were part of a team operating a naval wireless station.  They had cots for sleeping and they said the chief Petty Officer would let us have them, if we spoke nicely to him and also said he was bad medicine as we found out.

 

We knocked his door and asked politely for 5 cots.  He really was bad medicine and got quite abusive calling us dry land sailors, to which I took umbridge and instead of keeping quiet, I told him Jamie and I had probably wrung more salt water out of our socks than he had sailed on.  We did not get any cots, so we had to sleep on the wood floor, fully clothed, with just a blanket for warmth.

 

Now for the juicy part.  In the morning, the CPO opened the door and shouted “everybody rise and shine” and left.  About a couple of minutes later, he came into the classroom and said, “I’ve got you b…. (expletive word), where I want you.  You are all on a charge for disobeying an order to get up”.  We then got up for breakfast.

 

The Skipper was billeted in a hotel called “The Lion D’or” and I took the jeep to pick him up.  His first question was if everything was okay and was taken back when I told him we were all on a charge and told him exactly what happened.  He was furious and asked me to take him to the C.P.O. and I could visualize fireworks because nobody would mess with his boys, as he called us.  By the way, Captain Cameron was a law student in his last year at University.  The first thing he asked the C.P.O. was how he could put him on a charge as, according to Kings rules and regulations, chapter so and so, verse so and so, he called us a name that was contrary to King Rules and Regulations and under this regulation he was putting the C.P.O. on a charge.

 

It shook the C.P.O, who said that it was an everyday expression used and not in anyway on their legitimacy.  The Skipper then said that he had a choice of dropping the charges against us and he would drop then drop the charge against he C.P.O.  The C.P.O. said he would drop the charges and the Skipper told him in no meek manner that he would issue us with cots and he would not have anything to do with us because if he did, the Skipper would charge him with harassment and using his rank to make trouble for us.  We were then issued with cots and a blanket and after that the C.P.O. completely ignored us.  Some of the washroom toilets were completely frozen with the very cold weather and virtually no heating, so we used the C.P.O.’s private washroom he had used for only himself but he never said a word to us.

 

We then learned why our party had been so speedily sent to Holland, as the Germans had broken through allied lines and to repeat myself, this was now the Battle of the Bulge.  The operation to be, was that we had to meet up with British Commandos and with the assistance a of shallow draft gunship, we were to raid an island next to Bergen Op Zoom sounding like Schewn and to cause as much havoc and trouble in order to draw German troops away from the Bulge to reinforce that particular area.

 

Just prior to the raid, we learned that Germans already reinforced that area but we thought the raid was still on and thought it would be more or less a suicide mission.  Fortunately, it was called off before we left Bergen Op Zoom.  What a relief!  After that we had only to be plagued by V.I. flying bombs, which was like a pilotless airplane and launched from a ramp.  When they were timed to explode, one would hear the engine stop and it would glide for a few minutes and then explode as it hit the ground or wherever.  That caused a lot of damage to London and the south of England but we had our turn of them in Bergen Op Zoom.  The artillery anti aircraft guns went most of the time and were often quite successful in hitting and destroying the flying bombs.

 

The Germans had also invented another type of bomb, which was called the V.2. And this was in the form of a large rocket and unfortunately once launched, there was no defense against it, as it went to high and exploded when it landed.  London again being the main target.

 

We had a young doctor, Bill MacIntyre arrive in Bergen, having only been in the forces for 6 weeks.  He and the Skipper became good friends, as I did, with both after the war.   He was a navy sub lieutenant doctor and one day we were speaking and I told him about the V.2. rockets and that they were being launched around areas in Nijmegen and I was surprised, when he asked if I could take him and another officer near that particular area, as when they are launched, they go in a zig-zag pattern until they disappear.    I was curious myself so I agreed to take them, only if they didn’t tell the Skipper.  They promised so we left one afternoon along the autobahn eventually arriving near Nijmegen, where the air force had been combing the launching sites.  We managed to see in the distance, the vapor trail of a rocket and as Nijmegen was further than I thought, it was getting dark and as we had only a small peep of light coming from the head lamps of the jeep, I was concerned about the journey back as parts of the road had been badly hit with machine gun fire causing large potholes, which were difficult to see with the poor light from the head lamp.   I put the foot down and in going through Breda, a Canadian Sergeant on a Harley Davidson motorcycle, went in front of me and stopped us. He asked me where the fire was and I quite indignantly told him I was taking these medical specialists to operate on an important senior officer and he was keeping us back.  He quickly apologized when he learned Bill was a doctor and led us through Breda at about 60 miles per hour.  My white lie and quick thinking saved us, especially me, from getting into big trouble. We arrived back safely and I would add Bill MacIntyre, after the war, became a famous surgeon, who happened to operate on my mother for a thyroid condition and phoned me at work to say everything was ok. When I asked him what he did, he said, “I just cut her throat”.  Bill sadly passed away while giving a medical lecture at a fairly young age.

 

On one of our trips, we passed a cemetery and noticed a large memorial with a Nazi emblem on top.   We stopped and all the graves were beautifully kept with name and rank, etc. on each cross.  We then noticed a section of British graves, also beautifully kept and mostly of the Royal Air Force. It gave us an uncomfortable feeling to see some of the graves with the inscriptions in English “unknown British Airman” and underneath, “he died for his country”.

 

We also saw the grave of Guy Gibson, who was the famous pilot and was called “The Dam Buster”.  There was a movie made of this special bombing.

 

Quite near Breda, there is a town called Tilburg and I learned that the 1^st Royal Corps of Canadian Signals (RCCCS) were stationed in that area and sneaked off to Tilburg. If you remember earlier, at the rest centre at Amble in Normandy, I met my Canadian friend who spent many leaves with my parents, his name being Paul Bohonis. I thought it would be good to see Paul again, so when I arrived by jeep in Tilburg I stopped beside a sentry standing on duty outside a large office building.  I asked him to give me directions to the1st RCCS headquarters, where Paul was stationed.    He told me to wait and returned with a sergeant and another two guards, who escorted me into a room with a Captain behind a desk. The Captain then asked me for my pay book and why I wanted to know the whereabouts of the 1^st RCCS. I told him and began to get an uneasy feeling but thought it must be because I am wearing an army uniform and have a naval pay book.  On my battledress blouse, I had artillery shoulder flashes, red and green or green and red, I can’t remember.  Below the flashes, I had a combined operations badge on each shoulder, a good conduct stripe on one arm and a telegraphist T.O. badge on the other.  He then started to seriously question me as to where I had come from and I said Bergan Op Zoom.  He asked me what job I was trained for and after explaining about being an F.O.B. in the bombardment Unit, he than asked me where I lived to which I replied “Glasgow”.  He then asked me to name some of the street names and as I had mentioned Sauchiehall Street, he asked me to name some of the shops. I did not know any of the shops as I had never done any shopping in Sauchiehall Street and had only gone there to the cinemas, which I then named, but today I have forgotten.  His next question was what is the name of the dance hall and I was able to tell him it was the Locarno.  The next question was the nickname it was given by some of the locals.  Although I had never been there, I had heard it referred to as the Jungle.  The Captain then smiled and said ok and gave me directions to the RCCS headquarters, telling me that German troops had infiltrated behind the allied lines, dressed in British, Canadian and American uniforms and causing lots of damage and problems and also speaking good English, so he had to make sure and check me out.  I got such a scare, I jumped into my jeep and drove back P.D.Q. to Bergen and I never saw Paul again, until I came to Canada and met him in Montreal.

 

Another jaunt we had that nearly got us in trouble, was one day, Jamie and another telegraphist, who was stationed at the wireless station in Bergen and myself, took off in my jeep to Brussels, as we had heard about the famous statue and wanted to see it.  We stopped at a Naffi canteen for something to eat and when we came out the jeep had disappeared and we learned it had been taken by the M.P. (Military Police) to the car pound. We went to the pound to claim our jeep and as we had some tins of food in the glove compartment, the M.P. accused us of selling it in the black market.  This was not the case, but they didn’t believe us so they took our pay books and would send a report to Bergen for them to deal with us.  We had our pay books returned eventually and drove back to Bergen.  Fortunately, the telegraphist who was with us was able to destroy the report when it came through, so again we were lucky.

 

I recall 2 incidents happening in Holland and the first was one day I had to go to Antwerp in freezing weather and with virtually no protection from the elements.  I was so cold and I stopped at a house in a little village and knocked at the door.  An elderly man opened the door and I indicated, as he probably knew, I was very cold and he invited me in.  His wife gave me a bowl of hot soup in front of the fire and gradually I thawed out.  I thanked them for their hospitality and left.  Later on another trip to Antwerp, I managed to acquire some tins of bully beef and stopped at this house and gave them the tins of food.  They were delighted, as food was scarce and after thanking them again for their kindness I left.

 

The next incident happened when I was driving the jeep somewhere, I can’t remember and I heard the noise of machine gun fire in the distance and stopped and looking up, there were two planes in a dogfight.  It lasted about a minute when one of the planes spiraled and came straight down nose first into the ground about 3/400 yards from where I was.  The ground must have been very soft as there was no indication a plane had crashed in that field.  A number of people ran across the field but I knew the pilot must have been killed probably in the fight.  It all happened so quickly I don’t even know if it was a British or German plane.

 

By this time the allies were at the Rhine, so we were not able to be of any further assistance and by the end of March, we returned back to Dundonald.  Before finishing the Dutch operations, the family I had befriended was having a 25-year silver wedding party for their parents and I was invited to attend.  I managed a trip to Antwerp and picked up some brandy and gin, which they paid for and I wanted to give them something as a gift.  About a week prior, I had issued to me, thick woolen underwear (long drawers), which I had not wore and would never wear, so I put them in a parcel knowing that Mama, as we called, her, would rip them out to a ball of wool and knit something for little Dinah.  When she undid the parcel, it caused quite a laugh and they called them ‘Mamas Broochs’ something like that meaning Mothers underpants.  She was very grateful and I mentioned it was also my parent’s silver wedding.    When we were leaving, I said my goodbyes and Mama gave me a small parcel to give to my parents.  I opened the parcel to find a bracelet of 25 silver coins, like dimes with a silver lock.  I was quite touched to receive this and my own mother wore it on special occasions for many years.  It now belongs to my daughter Karen.  During my stay, I learned quite a bit of Dutch and still remember quite a lot.

 

On our return to the Isle of Wight, Captain Cameron was ordered back to Dundonald and re-assigned to a post in Khartoum in the Sudan and, I think was called Eritrea, but I could be wrong and we did not meet up with each other again, until the end of the war.

 

Jamie and I were most upset at loosing our Skipper, however, we were assigned to a new officer, Captain Beddington, who was ok but not a Captain Cameron.  The unit had now some new recruits, who had more or less no experience and our party took on another telegraphist named Goodman.  At that time, there was an American dance bandleader called Benny Goodman, so naturally everyone called him Benny.

 

The European war was nearly over by this time and Jamie and I received a weeks leave and to return to Poole near Bourneouth, still on the South coast of England.  Our unit would bring our gear with them, which was a blessing.

 

It was a long journey taking one night and half a day to Glasgow, the same back to Poole.  We both met in London and traveled to Poole, where we learned our next job was to land in the Channel Islands, as they were still occupied and in German hands.  When Jamie and I arrived at the camp, the P.O. said he needed us to go on a scheme with the unit, which was now made up to strength, with the new recruits and officers would not be taking an active part as it was another initiative scheme.  We had no option but to go after moaning our faces off, as we had traveled all night in the train with no sleep.  We settled into a new abode and managed a few hours sleep, changed into our old uniform for supper and we had to fall in with battle packs for 8:30 p.m.  We were then issued with 24 hour ration packs and told zero hour would be 2:30 a.m. at Weymouth and we had to do a number of practice shoots at various map references, where no two parties would be together.  Officers would be at these different map references to make sure we didn’t goof off as we probably would have done.

 

When we left in trucks to the landing craft, which were new to me, as they had a deck overhead, but to land it was by a plank of wood about 2 foot wide and strips every foot or so width wise to help you from slipping.  It was to be dropped from the bow.  It was also raining heavily and by the time we boarded the 2 craft, we were wet. We left the harbour and sailed for Weymouth, hoping for a cup of tea but no luck.  About a ½ hour before beaching, we were brought up on deck so our eyes would get used to the darkness, as we had traveled below decks in electric light.  This was standard practice and most important, but the rain by this time was coming down ‘Cats and Dogs’ and in a very short time, we were soaked through.  We used ground sheets as capes but not when you were, as we were supposed to be, going into action.

 

It was very dark but we made out the beach in the near distance and the telegraphist recruit in front of me said that he couldn’t swim and would I carry his 68 wirelesses set ashore. The set is supposed to be fixed to ones back by 2 straps and also a belt round ones waist.

 

The poor guy was really scared and I said I would but being an old hand at the landings, we, when we had to, would only put one strap over our shoulder, so if you went into deep water, the set would be dropped immediately and into the sea.   We beached about 30 yards out and the plank of wood was pushed over into the sea by one of the crew.  The little guy who was called Shorty Murray, sat down and slid down into the sea and when I saw it reach his chest, I got ready to ditch the set and then he stood up and found it was only about 3 feet deep, so I was only in the sea to he tops of my legs. I gave him his set and as he stood shivering on the stoney shore.  We then started to our various map references to do practice shoots with the rain still pouring down.  We stopped occasionally to eat from our lunch packs, but where we were, there were no places to scrounge or pay for a hot cup of tea.

 

The exercise was to land and cross at various places to a final spot a few miles further along the coast to be met by landing craft.  The rain stopped after a few hours but by the time we arrived at the pick up spot, a thick sea mist had rolled in covering our area making it cold, silent and difficult to see any distance.  We waited on the beach for what seemed hours, but probably it was only one, when we heard a loud hailer instructing us to wade out to the craft as they were afraid they might get grounded and stuck.  We had again to wade out in the freezing cold seawater to board the craft and with the mist we did not reach the harbour until about 9:00 p.m. and then back to the camp by truck.  I had been on many tough schemes, but that was one of the worst.  When we got back the mess was closed but most of the unit dropped off their uniforms and went straight to bed, cold and exhausted but Jamie and I went for a shower in luke warm water then dried off and into our bunks.

 

The next morning we heard nothing but moans as everyone was a bit sore with some raw at the shoulders and especially between the inside at the top of their legs.  They were not amused when we said they were like a bunch of cowboys with saddle sores.  We were later joined by Commandos to land on the Channel Islands and as we were ready to go, received a signal to say the Germans had surrendered, as had the German Army.  This was V.E. Day, May 8^th, 1945.  What a celebration and we were now to go on leave the next day.

 

It was great leave with lots of parties in the streets but we were still at war with Japan.

 

After V.E. Day (Victory in Europe Day), we returned to Dundonald camp where all F.O.B. units had arrived.  Some of the parties had returned from the Middle East and it was great to meet up with some old friends.  One morning on parade, we were marched to a large hall in the camp and pinned on the walls were pictures of the concentration camps and the prisoners. We just could not believe what we were seeing as any of the Germans we had seen or met were just like ourselves.  I will not dwell on this, as it is too terrible to remember.

 

After a while, life became rather boring as we started to get all sorts of jobs, such as spud bashing, i.e. potato peeling, sentry duty, drill etc.

 

As we were only about 35 miles from Glasgow, I would sneak out by the back of the camp where there was no sentry and via the golf course to the road, where I would hitch a ride to Glasgow.  Early the next morning I would catch the train to Troon and as it passed the golf course, it would slow down so there were always about 2 or 3 would jump off the train and sneak back into camp, in time for the morning parade.

 

On one occasion, I went out the front gate and handed in my station card.  The next morning I came back the usual way sneaking into camp and completely forgetting I had gone out the front gate and handed in my station card.  Later in the morning, one of the telegraphists in my unit told me he had just come from the guardroom and saw my name posted as being adrift (absent).  Then I remembered and went to the guardroom to try to talk my way out of being put on a charge.  I probably said I had too much to drink when I returned to camp, the previous night and must have forgotten to pick up my card.

 

No mercy and I was put on the Commanders report.  For that forgetfulness, I was given 3 days number 11’s.  The punishment losing 3 days pay and leave and from 6:00 p.m. to 8:00 p.m. all those on punishment were given a pail and a square cloth or duster and marched to a large empty building, with a concrete floor.  A hose was turned on until the floor was flooded and we had to bend down and draw the cloth across the floor and wring it out into the pail.  If this was not finished within the 2 hours, we would have to stay until it was.  Fortunately, we did finish in the time period.  You can imagine how our backs felt bending up and down from the waist for 2 hours.  I did this 3 times.

 

Thinking this over, I wonder how today’s generation would react to this type of punishment, which was really painful and cruel, but in those days, when punishment was dished out, you just had to do it or you would possibly finish up in cells.  Thankfully, that was the last time I was in trouble!

 

We had a number of German prisoners of war trucked daily to the camp every morning, to do various jobs.  They were mostly craftsmen and some painted beautiful murals in the dining hall and also the cafeteria/recreation room.  Some swept different areas to be kept clean. Some were carpenters, who made all sorts of things including furniture for the officer’s quarters and also a motor mechanic, who could speak very good English.

 

I managed to get a job as a guard and the carpenters were my responsibility and every morning, I marched them down to a large shed at the extreme bottom of the camp, bringing them back for lunch and returning and again, for role call at 5:00 p.m.  They were all very nice and I had no problems with them and one of the prisoners made me a toy for my little cousin Norma.

 

One afternoon I fell asleep to be wakened by one of the prisoners to say it was time to go.  I looked at my watch and it was 5:15 p.m. so we ran back to the parade ground to find all the trucks had left.  The duty sergeant was there and I told him my watch had stopped. He then told me the role call had been made and all were present.  Here was me with 6 prisoners, so how could that be possible.  He quickly got a truck and sent the prisoners back to their stockade. He asked me to say nothing, as he would have been in big trouble.

 

My next guard duty and last was to go with the motor mechanic, who could speak very good English and I was told to keep a careful eye on him all the time.  As soon as we arrived at the garage, he asked for a cigarette, as he would like a smoke before he started work. I told him to get on with it and I would decide if and when I would give him one. He was really quite mouthy and yacked most of the time about anything.  After lunch, he spoke to me very seriously, telling me he was at college and drafted into the German Army and that his home was in Hamburg and he knew that it had been heavily bombed by British and American bombers.  He said he had not received any word from his people and did not know if they were still alive. I began to feel sorry for him and then he said that I was very lucky being British because as we were still at war with Japan, I would be able to go to the Far East and join in the fight against Japan, with the victorious British Army.

After a while, I realized he was trying to be smart with all his talk and I decided to have a go at him. I told him that Churchill was passing a law where all German prisoners were to be drafted into the British Army and that he would be going to the Far East to fight along side the British troops. I told him it was a big secret and not to tell anybody.

The next morning the guards lined up to take charge of the prisoners and the sergeant asked who had spread the rumor that the Germans were going to be drafted into the British Army and sent overseas.  There was seemingly uproar in the P.O.W. camp, so I told him I had said it to the mechanic to shut him up.  I was then given the boot and transferred to the driving staff, which was a far better job.

On parade one morning, Major Thompson asked me to come with him, as he wanted to speak to me.  He then said he was taking an F.O.B. party to Karachi, India and he would like me to join his party.  Being away from my old Skipper Captain Cameron, I really liked Major Thompson, so I was delighted and said I would be pleased to join him.  He had already received all his needles and was flying out to Karachi the following week and that we would join him in about 2 to 3 weeks.

We had 2 needles for something or other and the atom bomb was exploded and the war ended.  That date was Aug 1945.  Most of our unit went on leave and again what a celebration, as all the church bells were ringing and at night bon fires were burning and people were dancing in the streets.  My friend Tommy and I both were on leave and we went to a few parties and what a happy time.  We also learned that some of our Boys Brigade friends did not return, so there was also a feeling of sadness.

 Back to Dundonald, where we were just putting in time waiting to be de-mobbed.  Being a driver, I was sent to Doonfort outside Ayr, where I did part of my wireless training.  My duty was to take signals to Heathfield airbase, which is now in Prestwick Airport, three times per day and my officer was Commander Nicholson.    The Commander had 2 spaniels both were gun dogs and he would go shooting at the weekends with the Earl of Bute. One day, looking at one of the dogs, I told him it had a tap worm and I would give it a worming pill.  I was correct and he was delighted and another friendship was formed.  He asked me if I would like to stay on, as I was to be there for only a week. This suited me and at the weekends, I would drive him to Wemyss Bay on the coast, where he would catch a steamer to the Isle of Bute and I would pick him up again on the Sunday.  He gave me permission to take my jeep home for the weekend and I would drive to my Fathers work and run him home in my jeep.  I had a real cushy number.  

Commander Nicholson had 2 medals and asked me why I did not have any ribbons on my uniform.  At that time, I could not have cared less about medals, however, I sewed on my ribbons and at that time, I had the 39/45 Star, Africa, Italy and France/Germany stars, so that the next time I saw him, he said “you have rather put me in the shade”.

One afternoon I was relaxing in a hot bath when the dispatch rider told me he couldn’t get his motorcycle started and could I help him.  I then got dried and clothed and tried to start his motorcycle, without success and he said he had an urgent signal to go to Largs and could he take my jeep.  He could not use my jeep as it was signed over to me, so I asked him for his coat and delivered the signal to Largs.  It was bitter cold weather and having an open jeep, I felt absolutely frozen. I went to bed early that night and in the morning had a splitting headache and pains in my chest.  In the camp there was a sick bay/hospital so I asked one of the nurses for an aspirin.  She took my temperature and told me to get into one of the hospital beds.  I had developed pleurisy and double pneumonia and was very sick. They gave me M&B tablets and a needle every 3 hours, with my rear end feeling like a pincushion.  I would add that the needles at that time were re-used and sharpened when blunt.  My lungs had filled with fluid and the doctor had 2 nurses hold my arms and over a food tray.  He then pushed a syringe into my back and drained the fluid from my lungs.  It was very painful and he told the nurse to give me a shot of Brandy.  The aspiration or the brandy helped me shortly after.  I was in the hospital for about 4 weeks and while I was there, my parents came through from Glasgow to visit and gave me my belated 21^st birthday ring, which I wear today.  The ring is now rather thin with wear but I would not be without it.

Back again to Dundonald and at last my de-mobilization number came up, so I had to say goodbye to my friends and was about to leave when 2 officers came up and one was Captain Rocky Tait, who I had given quite a rough time in Normandy and he shook my hand, wishing me all the best and he was pleased to have known me.  That to me was a surprise but he was genuine and I felt pretty good.  The other officer was Captain Crosby-Frame, who told me he was in the house rental business or as they say in Scotland, a factor and to come to him if I ever needed a house.  I took him up on his offer and after marriage, lived at 23 Melrose Gardens, which was a 2 room and kitchen with bathroom, in a very nice district.  House rentals were very scarce, as no construction in houses had happened in 6 years. We were very lucky.

For my de-mobilization, I had to travel to Edinburgh to Redford Barracks to get my civilian clothes.  It was like a cafeteria line up as ones chest measurement and height was taken, then along a series of tables where clothes were handed over.  When it came to the suits, they were all gray with a pin stripe and when the snotty little civilian handed a suit to me, I said I didn’t want a gray suit and wanted a blue with pin stripe.  He asked me if I thought I was in Saville Row, which is a very expensive place in London and one word followed another, as I was in a mood to flatten him.  An officer appeared and asked what the problem was and I told I didn’t want a gray suit and wanted a blue with pin stripe.  He then said to leave my address and one would be sent to me.  I really thought I had blown it but sure enough, about 10 days later, a lovely blue suit with pin stripe arrived and a perfect fit.

When I rejoined my office in Templeton’s, all the male staff members who were in the forces had grey suits and I was the only one with blue.

As the navy received prize money, I wrote them and received, I think 90 pounds and all my medals.  My son Alan has all my medals in a frame with my picture taken in Holland and my grandson Alexander has the same miniature medals.

A few months ago, I received a Dutch medal and this along with another set of miniatures I gave to my daughter Karen, who has typed and retyped these memoirs, correcting my spelling and grammar and for all her work I am truly grateful…. Thank You Karen!

The only person I met in my unit, with the exception of the Skipper, Alex Cameron, was Larry Boyce, who was sent back to U.K. shell-shocked.  I was in London England and bumped into Larry in the underground, or tube and he told me he was sent to Hairmyers Hospital in East Kilbride and married one of the nurses. I gave him my address and phone number but I moved shortly after to Canada and never managed to contact him again.

I do hope I haven’t lulled you off to sleep, reading these memoirs but only at the insistence of my family, I agreed to recall my memories of the war.

Some memories, I have left out as being too painful, such as seeing the devastation caused by flame throwers etc. but I have truthfully written as much as I can remember and am grateful that I survived and to be married to a wonderful wife and raised a beautiful family, who have produced 4 lovely grandchildren, whom I love very much.

It is interesting to know that my son-in-law Frank, is German and a great guy with a good sense of humor and I am so happy he is now one of the family as is my daughter-in-law Gail.