Welcome back to Alf Blackburn's war memoirs Part 2, WWII. Alf is somewhere in the middle of Sicily when his convoy is attacked. Here's a short repeat of where the action had got to in the previous episode

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Rennie and I looked at the bomb, and then we looked at each other and together dived under some rocks terrified. We held our breath dreading the impact, convinced that it was about to land right on top of our toecaps! 94 As it happened it passed safely over us and landed right in the middle of our carriers that were on the road at the bottom of the valley below us. The carnage that followed was almost indescribable. We were covered in debris and rubble that the bomb threw up as it exploded. We knew there wasn’t another bomb to come because that was the last aircraft, so we looked around to see what damage had been done. What a terrific mess it had caused; five carriers had been hit and some were completely gone, along with many lives.

An inquiry was later held to establish why the carriers were in such a vulnerable position. The enemy aircraft found them absolutely wide-open and exposed. It was impossible to get the trajectory of the Bofors down quick enough to fire at the planes, as they were flying so close to the ground.

Rennie and I stood up and tried to finish our shave; it was difficult as we were shaking so much. We contemplated as to how fortunate we had been. If our position had been just a little further down on the road then the outcome would have been completely different. Still, that would have been the price of war.

We rested overnight and the following morning we moved out heading towards Lentini, which would be the site of our 95 next skirmish. In my opinion this, and following battles, did not have the same severity as the desert.

Don’t get me wrong; we were still in danger of being shot and killed, and if the Germans entered into any battle, they put everything into it. Believe me we still had our hands full, as it were, but to me there was no comparison to the desert battles.

 The Germans’ main concern was to hold us up while they pulled out as many of their troops over the Messina Strait as was possible. They were beginning their retreat from the island and only fighting selected battles as and when the need arose to slow us down. 96

Onwards to Lentini ww2

We pressed on to Lentini and after one or two skirmishes, successfully secured it and dug in on the outskirts. On reflection, my attitude to the battles we had in this country must have been influenced by the sheer beauty of the place. We had the sea to our right with mountains and rolling hills to both the left and ahead of us. There were isolated villages scattered here and there, some on top of these hills which appeared almost inaccessible. All along our line of advance we never lost sight of the sea, and at one stage found ourselves walking along the cliff edge with amazing views below. One such view was at Taormina with its blue lagoons and incredibly clear water surrounded by rocks. Apparently this was a favourite holiday destination for the wealthy of the time, and I could certainly see why.

It was impossible to not be affected by such beauty. It was in total conflict with the job that we were there to do. I was in charge of the section because the previous corporal had been moved; mainly due to the fact that he had lost all credibility and respect from the men.

I didn’t mind being in charge as my role wasn’t really altered. I was still on the gun, and we were all pals; all in it together. It was always the case that the person we looked to for leadership was the one with the most experience, which at this time happened to be me. Whilst dug in for the 97 night we would try to get as much rest as possible, taking our turn to be on guard. It was difficult countryside for guard duty because in the dark, every bush, peach or olive tree, looked like a person moving in the darkness.

At the time we had a young lad from Hartlepool going by the name of Totty assigned to our unit. I’m afraid he was somewhat lacking in common sense and I wondered how he’d managed to get to us. I rather assumed he’d been rejected from every other unit in the British Army before finally being sent to us. Still, he was here and had to take his turn on lookout along with everyone else.

To enable each person to get to the lookout post and back again in the dark, we had a long piece of white tape going from one position to the other. This we held on to and used as a guide, and if someone returned displaying a sense of urgency, we would all stand to.

It was Totty’s turn for lookout duty, and I was just dozing off when suddenly he appeared running like hell shouting, “They’re coming, they’re coming!” Within seconds the whole platoon was standing to. It turned out to be a false alarm and there was absolutely nothing there, not a thing. This started to become a regular occurrence on Totty’s watch, and after a few false alarms, I went to Ted Burton and told him that he would have to get rid of him as he was more of a liability than an asset. He had everyone on edge and the men just couldn’t rely on him. 98 So they moved Totty out, where to I did not know, but I hoped he was ok. He was a decent lad just not cut out for the job we had to do. Personally, I thought he would have been better off in the Pioneer Corps or something similar. He definitely didn’t belong with us; I’m not saying that the rest of us had the highest intellect but at least we had the necessary acumen needed to survive in the environment we were in.

Every morning at first light we would stand up and look over the valley; it was usually misty first thing and cleared once the sun came up. It was the morning after Totty’s departure and we were standing waiting for the mist to clear. Then suddenly just as it was beginning to clear we could see two helmets bobbing about in the distance, but were unable to identify them as they were just too far away. Although we could only see two people, we couldn’t be certain until they got nearer, so our best course of action was to lie ‘doggo’ with weapons at the ready. I got down behind the gun and dropped the sights to zero and lined in on them. They were making quite a bit of noise as they advanced, coming closer and closer through the mist.

99 At the last split second someone shouted, “They’re two of our fellows.” Believe you me; they were the two luckiest men on the island at that moment, because in two more yards they would have copped the lot.

Looking through the sight of the gun it was impossible for me to distinguish their nationality, and the obvious assumption on seeing men approaching from in front of us was that the enemy was sending out an early morning patrol. My finger was on the trigger, squeezing gently and holding my breath ready to go; they came so close to paying the price. It was only because of the sharp eyesight of one of our team that a tragedy was averted. After a few shouts they located us and ran to join our section.

I was about to tear a strip off them when I could see that they were obviously too far gone, gabbling incoherently. Apparently, they’d gone out on patrol the previous night and somehow managed to get themselves in between the two opposing lines. They were miles away from where they should have been, trying to find their own regiment but were glad to have found us. They were blissfully unaware of just how close they had come to being shot and killed. It doesn’t bear thinking about how we would have felt if we’d shot two of our own.

We stayed in that position for a few days then pushed on into the countryside to the north of Lentini with Mount Etna visible in the distance. 100 It was an incredible sight and seemed a lot closer than it actually was. Scattered in the countryside were farmhouses and outbuildings which were surrounded by dry stone walling and these huge fences made from cactus plants, which must have been twelve feet high or more. The cactus reminded me of the old comi-cut pictures that we used to see in newspapers; big oval shaped leaves covered in spikes with cactus pears. We cleared the farmhouse and took up our positions; it covered a large amount of land including the house, various outbuildings and a dry well in the farmyard. Sergeant Errington and Lance Corporal Till occupied the dry well, whilst Rennie and I positioned ourselves by the dry stone wall underneath the cactus.

We hadn’t been there long when we came under attack from German mortar bombs. After the first bomb dropped, I immediately thought that we’d dropped right into range of one of the German positions, and that we should be getting out of there as soon as possible. One of the bombs in the first salvo fell either directly onto or next to the dry stone well and Sergeant Errington was killed. I don’t know if Till was wounded but he jumped out of there and ran across the farmyard straight through the cactus hedge and over the dry stone wall. He then ran like hell down the hill heading towards the regimental aide post which was two miles away, but the Red Cross post was clearly visible from our position. 101 The last I saw of him was his blond hair disappearing down the valley as he bobbed in and out of the shrubbery.

Although we felt reasonably safe behind the stone wall, and were well dug in, something made me feel uneasy and I told Rennie that we should vacate the area. But by then the second salvo was on its way. The bombs fell in salvos of six and we decided to stick it out until after the sixth bomb. We counted the impact of each bomb hoping that none of them would land on top of us. Luckily for us that didn’t happen and as soon as the sixth had dropped, we threw the gun and magazines on top of the wall, jumped over, and ran like hell for the rocks but when we were halfway there the German gunner spotted us and sprayed us with machine gun bullets. Fortunately, his bullets fell behind us as we ran and we made it safely to the rocks, which continued to be peppered with machine gun fire.

We had to lie there for over an hour waiting until the tide of battle had flowed over. We were then able to stand up and take stock of our situation and decided to return to check on the farm buildings. Where once there stood a sturdy stone wall that we had to climb over, there was now a gap enabling us to walk straight through. The wall and all the cacti had been completely demolished along with all of the farm buildings. Nothing would have been able to survive in there. 102 Rennie and I looked at each other knowingly; realising just how close we had come to death, and he assured me that from then on, he would trust my judgement on any future decisions. I’m sure others would have made the same decision to move out of there, but it was still very comforting to know that I’d done the right thing. Of course, had I not made that decision I wouldn’t be here to relate this account. Ww2.

When this battle was over, we moved from our position and started to advance with Mount Etna ahead of us. Since landing at Avola it always seemed that we were heading straight for Etna but it was just that it happened to coincide and be in the line of our advance. 103

Primosole Bridge ww2 Durham Light Infantry DLI

Our instructions were to reach the first wet river in Sicily, the River Simeto. In July 1943 British paratroopers were waiting to be dropped into Sicily; their objective being the Primosole Bridge. They successfully took out the Italian garrisons at the bridge. However, the Germans had already dropped an elite group of their own paratroopers because they also realised the strategic importance of the bridge. I later learnt that these were the battle-hardened ‘Fallschirmjaeger’ troops, sometimes known as the ‘Green Devils’.

The British paras drop didn’t go too well and were too scattered with only a small percentage making it to the bridge itself; they fought well but were running out of ammunition and so the decision was made to pull back.

Then the task of taking this river and the bridge that crossed it was given to the men of the Durham Light Infantry.

This was one of the many regiments that made up the British Army at the time. Although each of these regiments was based in their own area, the men that served in them could come from all over the country. So in the Durhams it was possible to have men from as far afield as Kent, Scotland, Wales or Cornwall for example. But each and every one of them had a great allegiance to their respective regiment. 104 If we had done one operation less and reached the river first it would have been down to us to take the bridge. We had been probing the area looking for the river but in the event the task of taking it fell to the Durhams. It turned out to be one of the bloodiest battles I had the good fortune to not have been part of. That’s just how the cookie crumbled.

We took up our position just south of the river and the Durhams passed through us in the early hours, and took up their positions ready to assault the river crossing at midnight. The river was about as wide as the River Wear at Chester-Le-Street which is approximately 150 feet. There were steep banks on either side covered in very tall reeds; in fact, some of them were head height and a person could be completely hidden in them.

Spanning the river was a metal bridge, the Primosole Bridge, which reminded me of the bridge at Fatfield near Washington in County Durham. 105 As I said previously, the Germans had dropped one of their crack paratrooper regiments at the bridge. They had taken up position overlooking the river in the cover of the reeds. When the Durhams began their assault, they were waiting for them and one of the bloodiest battles of the war ensued. I could only imagine the bitter hand to hand fighting that went on before the Durhams finally overwhelmed the German paratroopers.

The achievements of the Durham Light Infantry that night cannot be underestimated because those paratroopers were the cream of the German army. They had been sent there to fight until the end, to try and take control of the bridge, so that the rest of their army could pull back over the Messina Straits. But that night it was the Durhams that were victorious.

It was one of the highest and most courageous achievements that had been my privilege to witness, and I wondered if we would have been able to do the job that the Durham Light Infantry did that night. We were very close by waiting in case they called on us for assistance. How they didn’t call for help I’ll never know as we could hear the battle going on and it seemed like every yard of ground had to be fought for by hand to hand combat, before they finally took control of the bridge.

A monument was erected at the Primosole Bridge for the men of the Durham Light Infantry and occasionally I meet 107 people who either had a relative, or had simply heard of someone that died at Primosole. They couldn’t possibly have any real comprehension of the achievement of those brave men, and the losses that they sustained.

I personally believe that every man who took part in that particular assault was deserving of the V.C. at the very least. Because we had to advance through the position after it had been taken to consolidate it, and we saw the carnage for ourselves.

We dug in among the reeds in an area which was given the name ‘stinky valley’ because when the sun came up and warmed up the bodies that were still lying where they fell, the stench was unbearable. We had to get a bulldozer to clear them as it was impossible to find them, as they were well hidden in the reeds. Once the bulldozer had done its job, we were then able to cover the bodies to reduce the risk of disease spreading. We would go on sorties through the reeds down to the river, and one morning about two days after the battle, Rennie and I were out on patrol when we came upon a dead German paratrooper still lying behind his gun in the reeds. He had a bayonet sticking out from his back, still with the rifle attached. I imagine that he had been stumbled upon accidently and the bayonet had been plunged in a hurry. It did seem odd that the rifle had been left behind, but it was a reminder of how bitter and ferocious the fighting was in this encounter. 108 No praise is too great for the lads that fought in the battle for Primosole. It was ‘the battle’ of Sicily to me, and it opened the way for the Army to move on to Messina. Not taking this bridge would have had an incalculable effect upon future operations. Coming from County Durham myself I couldn’t help but feel an enormous sense of pride, and deemed it a privilege to have been associated with them.

We moved out and headed towards Catania, one of the largest towns in Sicily. It lies at the foot of Mount Etna with a plain in front known as the Catania Plain. This was the last battle in Sicily that our division was to take part in, and we dug ourselves in on the plain to await further developments.

Soon afterwards we received a visit from our brigadier who I would describe as a harum-scarum individual. Although we had lots of derogatory nicknames for him, such as Shaggy, Shag Nasty, or Ginger, because of his mass of ginger hair, he was actually held in high regard by the whole brigade. Mainly because of the way that he showed readiness to be in the firing line and we quite enjoyed his outspokenness. Until that day I hadn’t had any close contact with him; he was there to inspect the divisions and their positions ahead of the battle for Catania. Durham Light Infantry DLI.

As he approached our section, we were a little apprehensive about what he was going to say. We were dug in with our guns at the ready; he tapped one of the guns with his 109 walking stick and said, “What would you do if the Germans came running across that field?” There was a very brief pause then in unison we said, “Kill them, sir.” He replied with, “That’s the idea. Don’t take any prisoners--kill the bastards!” That was the kind of situation that he relished. Then, as he walked closer to me, accompanied by Claude Hull, he asked if there was anything that we wanted. As it happened, we had absolutely no cigarettes at all, and so I thought ‘In for a penny in for a pound’ and informed the brigadier. During the war cigarettes were considered to be a staple part of the Army’s provisions, so he expressed his horror to Claude Hull and promised that we would have our cigarettes by the afternoon.

Sure enough the afternoon came and we were each issued with thirty cigarettes. I wasn’t sure what Claude Hull’s opinion on the matter was, but I remember thinking at the time that he could go to hell; the men were deserving of those cigarettes as they had all entered into many battles without the comforts that they were entitled to; some of them sharing ‘dog ends’. The fact that as soon as the brigadier realised we had no cigarettes and they were forthcoming, proved to us that they were available if someone only had the inclination to put in a request. So we got our cigarettes and I will always remember ‘Shag’ for that. 110 As I said, we were dug in on the Catania Plain and as we lay there, the smoke from Mount Etna was clearly visible. We had to probe the area in front of us as we advanced towards Etna, checking for the enemy. Whilst out on patrol one day we were crossing through some orange groves and had only just entered the groves when suddenly an Italian soldier jumped out waving a white flag. He was fortunate that we didn’t immediately shoot him. He wanted us to follow him, and was gesturing in the direction that he wanted us to go. Obviously, we were very cautious and prodded him to lead the way. He then led us to a glade deep in the centre of the orange grove. Here we found two trestle tables covered with white tablecloths on top of which were bottles of wine and dishes of nuts. There were about fifteen Italians and it turned out they were waiting to surrender; the wine was there open and ready, waiting for the first British troops to get there.

We were still unsure of the situation, keeping one eye open watching for any treachery, but there was nothing to worry about. They just wanted to give themselves up as they could see that the British were taking control of Sicily. One of them even wanted to join us to fight the Germans who were once his ally; this of course was out of the question and as he was sticking with us, we had to eventually forcibly eject him. 111 The political situation at the time was the Italians had given up and wanted the whole thing to be over with, now that their allies the Germans were not doing so well. Previously they had wanted to be aligned with the successful German expeditions. I couldn’t help but temper their current behaviour with what had passed before. Although I wouldn’t describe the Italians as a warlike race, I found it difficult to understand their political stance, which led them to take up arms on Germany’s side in the first place. But that’s all water under the bridge now.

We went on probing the area, and fought a couple more skirmishes and then after a few ‘house to house’ sorties, Catania fell to us. After its capitulation we were given permission to have a look around part of the town; only part because three quarters of it was out of bounds to troops. There was really nothing to see; the shops were in no position to do any trading, and so all in all the visit to Catania was a bit of a damp fizz. Durham Light Infantry DLI

Letojanni wwii

(Could cut this out and save 2000 words, making 13,000 in all)

We moved forward along the coast road passing various villages on the way and eventually came to a small fishing village called Letojanni, which was situated approximately 25 miles south of Messina. It was decided that the B.H.Q. would be billeted in one of the empty houses and we were given a large abandoned building that had either been a hotel or civic centre. Firstly, we had to clean it up as it was in an absolute mess.

Hostilities had ceased but one of our brigades had pushed on ahead over the Messina straits to take up and form a beachhead on the other side. This was to provide protection for the rest of the army and supplies as they passed through, just as a precaution against any counterattack. Apart from that the campaign was virtually over and we were to take up our positions in the billet which we had cleaned out.

That was basically the end of the Sicilian campaign and it was time to sort out and collect our gear together. We would have liked to have some sort of keepsake to remember the place, but as I have already explained it was a very poor area with very little to buy. I picked a couple of lemons and found a few almonds which I stuffed in my kit bag as keepsakes to take back to England. Then we headed about 50 miles north to Augusta, to embark and return to England and begin training for the invasion of Europe. Durham Light Infantry DLI and Green Howards feature.

When I look back on the Sicilian campaign, I remember it for the beauty of the island, the warm sea, the climate, and the balmy moonlit nights. On some evenings we used to sit on the flat roof of our billet accompanied by a couple of the 119 Sicilian villagers, who used to play some favourite Italian tunes on their violins and accordions.

The nights were warm, sultry warm, and the air was filled with the smell of the surrounding countryside and the abundance of fruit trees, grapevines and olive trees. We could almost have forgotten that we had been fighting a war.

The campaign itself hadn’t been too bad for me, but apart from the beauty of the place, the thing that sticks in my mind is the Battle of Primosole and the brave men of the Durham Light Infantry. Many of whom lost their lives. This conflicted with my overall memory of Sicily, which seemed a place more suited as a holiday destination than for a war. I have often thought that I would like to return someday, but I suppose some of the areas that we had full access to, like Taormina, will have reverted back to being the holiday destinations of the wealthy like they once were.

So that for me was the end of the Sicilian campaign and it was time to move on to prepare for the next.

End sicily

Page 120 Training for D-Day

Page 126 We return to the South Coast

Page 135 The Landing

Page 177 That Fateful Day

So ends this extract from Alf Blackburn's war memoirs. Alf Returns safely to Britain in order to train and prepare for D-Day, the invasion of Normandy. The remaining chapters in his book cover this in detail including the brutal D-Day landing on gold beach. I've got quite a lot more material to share with you in the PS, shortly, so stay with me.

For now

Thanks wwii

Round up

Thank you so very much for your support and for making the time to listen to me.

And please – FOLLOW THE SHOW

If you get a chance, please post a review of the pod on the platform of your choice. I do read them all.

Above all – enjoy the show. Please do hear me next time.

PS

Jim: About Alf wwii

To kick the ball rolling, I just want to share what Jim King said to me about Alf, his father-in-law:

“Alf was a very unassuming modest man, like I suspect a lot of them were.

They were brought up in a different time. A time when they knew their duty to King and country, and simply joined up to go, and “do their bit”. Heroes, the lot of them.

Jim and Jan. Thank you for your efforts over many years for bringing this piece of history to the fore and thank you for helping me to close another chapter on the background to some of Dad’s comrades. And thank you again for letting me share some of it on the Fighting Through WW2 Podcast.

My view

I was ridiculously spoilt for choice over which passages to share for this podcast, and if you want to read the lion’s share, then you need to buy this book. Daughter Jan has spent years producing it and publishing it.

There’s a link to the book on Amazon in the episode notes and also one in the news banner at the top of the home page. It’s called Alf Blackburn’s War Memoirs.

It’s well-written, Well produced, and well-researched.

It is stuffed full of stories that bring you right to the front line. You experience how the soldiers ate, washed and fought as Alf takes you from mobilisation to Africa, Tunisia, Sicily and D-Day. By any measure, this is a great memoir. Oof my word.

The link is in the episode notes in your listening app and for a short period in the banner at the top of my web site, www.fightingthroughpodcast.co.uk.

Fighting Through WW2 Podcast

Jim to Michael wwii

My wife has just asked me to let you know how happy she is that we have finally managed to get in touch. She started this project several years ago, and contacting any living relatives of Rennie was always a very high priority. It seems rather fitting that after all these years, just prior to publishing the book, this has now managed to happen. In a way this is a tribute to those two wartime best pals and 'brothers in arms'.

I am sure that we will now keep in touch and many thanks to Paul Cheall for making that happen.

Farm plans wwii

Michael Shaw sent Jim a newspaper cutting that told of Rennie being killed in action and a grainy image of him, and it was the same man in Jim’s photos. 

The newspaper cutting mentions a farm. Alf mentioned in his tape recordings that prior to the war Rennie had worked on a farm. He jokingly spoke about their rather speculative plans to go into business after the war, not really knowing what on earth they could actually do together. Alf was a bricklayer by trade and he said that all he knew about farming and cows was what you got on your plate for Sunday dinner!

Jim said that according to Alf, Rennie always felt safe when they were together. Tragically, and rather ironically, Rennie was killed three days after Alf was injured in a mortar attack....

Alf was devastated when he learnt about Rennie’s death.

Quick shout out from Michael:

I'd also like to to acknowledge Michael Shaw's important role in all of this because it was Michael who first started the ball rolling by contacting me via my website. In turn, although many year later, this produced the connection with Jan and Jim. What a great result. Michael, in some of the correspondence, you mentioned that there is a group in Keighley called Men of Worth (Keighley is in Worth Valley, Yorkshire), Men of Worth research and share an historical interest in notable men of the town, starting with all the names on the war memorials.

Link

PS 1 D-Day beach WW2

As we were approaching the beach I could already see a landing craft grounded; it just reached the beach when the whole lot exploded. It was awful to see; flames and smoke were shooting about 150 ft in the air. This was the first craft to touch land and whether it had hit a mine or received a direct hit I wasn’t too sure, but I thought the explosion looked like it might have been a direct hit from an 88 millimetre.

The sea was very choppy as we were nearing the beaches and preparing for ‘ramps down’. I’d been expecting to feel the bottom of the boat grinding on dry land but that didn’t happen. The command was given ramps down, but there was no dry land and the first section ran out in single file. As each man got to the end of the ramp there seemed to be some hesitation and it was only when it was my turn that I could see why this was. I was leading the second section and when I got onto the ramp the last man from the first section was still standing at the end of the ramp; I was right behind him but he didn’t move so I said “Come on John” and gave him a gentle push. He had obviously been hit with shrapnel or something as he stood there, and fell into the water surrounded by blood.

I stepped off the boat and thought I was going to meet Father Neptune as the water came right up to my shoulders, and covered all the gear that I was carrying. In fact there was only my head and a little bit of shoulder protruding and so I turned to the sailor on the craft and said “Could you not get the bloody boat a bit closer?” He did look somewhat astounded but it seemed a bit ridiculous to me that we were so far out from the shore and the water was that deep. There was a lot of debris floating in the water and also stakes dug into the bottom with only about a foot visible.

I started to move forward as best I could with shells hitting the water straight ahead of me. When the shells hit, shrapnel flew off and skimmed across the sea towards me. It reminded me of someone skimming pebbles at the beach but these were far more dangerous, and with only my head and shoulders above the waterline it was quite disconcerting seeing them bouncing towards me.

As I was moving forward I came upon a commando who shouted “I’m wounded, I’m wounded”; sure enough he had a large gash in the top of his thigh but he was still walking and the wound was not life threatening. On reflection my reaction must have seemed rather absurd as my main concern was what he had done with the L.M.G. (Light Machine Gun); he told me that he had dropped it and I just said “Aw man, what did you do that for?”

I am still amused to this day at my attitude; I know that he was wounded but that L.M.G. was a very important piece of equipment. I told him to get back on the boat, even though the assault craft were not supposed to pick people up. Their job was to get everyone off then leave, however as the last section was leaving the boat the wounded from the first were trying to get back in.

PS2 D-Day prisoner mission

We were tasked on D-Day with landing and making our way to a coppice on some high ground about seven miles inland; once there we were to take prisoners that were wanted urgently by intelligence back in England. The troops guarding the area were known as smoke troops firing smoke mortars to aid concealment, but our company had to push through it and get there regardless even if we only managed to get one prisoner. Knowing my companions from previous sorties I thought we’d have trouble hanging onto one! As I look back now to those events it is difficult to visualise just how ruthless we had become.

Returning to the briefings I was a little cynical about certain aspects of the enterprise. Some of our officers were inexperienced in battle and we had new junior officers. Our commanding officer had never seen a shot fired in anger, yet looked on the whole affair with extreme optimism and impatience to get on with things. He laughed at my pessimism and caution; he was such a gentleman that I was reluctant to dampen his enthusiasm.

I had no illusions about our friends with the jackboots; they were professionals, I’d met them in the desert and in Sicily and I knew that every inch of ground would have to be fought over.

So out hero progresses successfully up Gold Beach and onwards …

On the aerial photographs that we’d studied prior to the landings we had seen that there was an area of discoloured ground in a pasture field that we had to cross. We believed that this was a tunnel leading to and from the spinney that we were tasked to take. Sure enough as we got about half way across the pasture, the discoloured ground was clearly visible, winding like a ribbon straight to the spinney. We whipped the guns around and slung in a couple of two inch mortar bombs straight into the spinney, then BANG, BANG, and off we went into the attack.

The tanks rumbled along so far then stopped to let us do our thing, but also remaining at the ready to direct fire on to the spinney if required. We headed for the copse with only the occasional shot coming our way; there was no machine gun fire and only one lad dropped after he’d been shot in the ankle. We kept going and made it into the copse and once there we spread out and were running around everywhere.

I saw about six German soldiers head down to what looked at first like an anti-tank ditch, but was in fact an entrance to a tunnel. They dashed into the tunnel and so I positioned myself at the bridge of the opening, loaded the Bren gun, pointed it into the tunnel and fired.

Our second Lieutenant arrived and wanted to know what was going on. When I told him what had happened he suggested that I go in after them! I told him in no uncertain language that I didn’t think that was a very good idea, following it up with, “I’m not going in there, give them a few minutes and let them come out,” I said.

We could hear shouting coming from inside the tunnel and then after a minute or two out walked the biggest German that I had ever seen in my life! He seemed to be about 7 feet tall and was built like a battleship; what a man! He looked to be a true Prussian complete with scar on his cheek; I’d always found Germans looked terrifying at the best of times, and this huge man appeared with his jacket slung over his shoulder in typical Teutonic fashion. He was wearing a soft cap and riding breeches, and looked very arrogant when he strode out. However all credit to him because he was the first out and was taking quite a chance, as I’d already sent one magazine down the tunnel, and there was another one on the gun at the ready.

Out he came still wearing his revolver, with the remnants of his section following behind. We were absolutely over the moon to have captured a prisoner of his calibre; this was exactly what we were there for.

We moved to take his revolver but he had other ideas; as an officer he thought he was untouchable and felt that he should be able to keep his gun. “Get it off him” I said, “We can’t have any Germans wandering around here carrying revolvers”. He relinquished the revolver to the 2nd Lieutenant, which I suppose would have been a good souvenir for him, as long as he managed to take it home.

Last to come out from the tunnel were the walking wounded and they were in a sorry plight; I saw at first-hand the results of my own workmanship and was immediately filled with remorse. It was a rare occasion that anyone was confronted with the results of their own actions as I was on that day. I knew that I was responsible for all of the wounds that had been inflicted upon them, and wanted to do as much for those lads as I could.

Although realistically there wasn’t much I could do apart from give them a drink of water or a cigarette.

This was the reality of war and there wasn’t any point brooding about it; there could have been one or two dead in the tunnel, but as far as I was aware no one checked.

We had taken the position and as was usual, once a position was taken we had to move off it quickly; we knew that the ranges on those positions were very precisely known and the enemy knew exactly where to lay their fire down. So it was important to get out of the area as fast as we could. We didn’t necessarily have to move too far, just out of the German range.

We then started to comb the rest of the spinney, which was pretty dense in places, for any strays that could be concealed there. At that time we had a Scottish lad with us whose skin was so dark from his time in the desert that he looked more Asiatic than Scottish.

He was carrying a Thompson submachine gun and I was walking about 4 yards behind him. We were approaching a bush when suddenly, BANG! He spun round and unloaded the magazine of his machine gun into and around the bush. He then turned to me and said, “Did you no see that? Look at my shoulder.” Sure enough a bullet had cut his shoulder strap and burned his tunic. He had wasted no time in emptying that magazine, and the stupid German had paid the price; I call him stupid because he should have realised that in those given circumstances it was futile to stay and fight. The time had come for him to surrender but he had one last very brave show of force, doing his duty, and unfortunately paid for that one ‘stupid gesture’ with his life.

As Jim observed on this incident  - the soldier wasn’t that worried about killing the man, he was more bothered about his ripped jacket!

They had become animals.

PS 3

 Wounded WWII WW2 D-Day

“His war ended when he was blown up by a mortar bomb two weeks after D-Day, and a fragment of metal shrapnel penetrated his helmet, embedding itself into his head. He was clearly lucky to survive and that was very largely due to it having occurred only 50 yards from an advanced field hospital.”

When the first bomb dropped it was too close; I knew when it dropped it was almost on top of us and I just had time to think, “Good gracious this is it”. The next one blew me up in the air and I didn’t know what hit me.

The whole world seemed to burst and the noise in my head was absolutely terrific. It is hard to describe but it was like being in a swimming baths that was so full of screaming children that you dive under the water to get away from the sound. But when you resurface the noise is absolutely overwhelming. The whole world seemed to be revolving round and round; everything was spinning and I thought “Good God I’m dying.”

D-Day PS’s wwii

These come from postings under one of the videos on my YouTube channel.

Here’s the audio of my own visit to Gold Beach a while back:

>>> 

NVW

Thank you Paul for telling us your Dad’s story, very moving! My Grandad John Willcox also landed on Gold Beach H+2 hrs on that day, he was a sergeant major with the Royal Artillery tank division. RIP to all of those brave men who put their lives on the line for our freedom

Sean Maio

My stepgrandfather, John Cummer, was a Gunner's Mate on one of the American LCIs that landed UK troops on Gold Beach (his ship was carrying the 50th Northumbrians). He retired an Officer and was the man who swore me into my own service in the Navy, and I had the very great privilege to escort him on a trip to the 70th anniversary of D-Day. We managed to bring him to the place where his ship grounded on D-Day. Thank you for remembering, and for sharing your father's perspective of that historic day.

Brian James

38 minutes ago

My ex father inlaw was at gold beach second wave in, he jumped off the side of his landing craft and sunk to the bottom ,he got to the beach minus his back pack and gun .he said he soon found a gun on the beach. He was wounded by shrapnel at Tilly sur Seulles and was shot in the back by a german trying to execute him. After the war he married a Canadian wren . His saying was “live and let live”
Rip Joe Easton a wonderful man

End