Alf left, Rennie right. Qasassin camp Egypt WW2

Alf right, Rennie left. Location n/k WW2

Durban S Africa

Fighting Through Podcast WW2 Episode 89 Alf Blackburn’s war memoirs Part 2, WW2 British Infantry

Fighting through is a regularly recommended WWII memoirs podcast

More great unpublished history!

WWII military history podcasts

Intro Passages

Intro Passage 1 ww2 memoirs

We only had air cover for about fifty percent of the time, and when we were without air cover we were subjected to an increase in hostile enemy air attacks.

Intro Passage 2 ww2 history

As we approached Sortino we could see a deep valley surrounded by rising hills. The Cheshires were already lined up along the high side of the valley, as this was to be the point from where we would begin our attack.

Intro Passage 3 ww2 podcasts

We could now see their heads and shoulders above the mist and my finger was taut on the trigger. Everyone was teed up ready for action and there were only a few yards in it before they would have got the full firepower of the section down on them.

Intro Passage 4 ww2 memoirs podcast

“Whenever we halted, as we did not know how close we were to the enemy, patrols went out to probe the land. On one of these, on 26 June,  [Lance] Corporal [Frank Leslie] Miller went out with six men and was killed by a sniper – poor lad – but we had become so used to seeing sudden death that it did not play on our thoughts for long. We also lost good old Corporal Shaw around this time.” Bill Cheall, Sicily, 1943

Intro passage 4 WWII history podcast

Who’d have thought that this random comment in Dad’s book, with just a rank and surname, would some years later have opened up the details of a legacy of connections and memories that would lead to the publication of another book, by a Green Howard. And that’s what this episode is about. Tighten yer Brody helmets and boot laces chums. It’s another FT classic!!!

Welcome

Welcome to this ww2 podcast

Voted one of the best military history podcasts by 5000 regular listeners

Hello again and another exciting WW2 welcome to the Fighting Through second world war podcast.  And a belated Happy New Year!

I’m Paul Cheall, son of Bill Cheall whose WWII memoirs have been published by Pen and Sword – in FTFDTH. 

The aim of this podcast is to provide family stories, memoirs, and interviews with veterans in all the countries and all the forces. I dare you to listen!

And lest you forget, make sure to listen to the end of the show because, as always, I’ve got a veritable plethora of PS’s to share with you, some of which you won’t want to miss, with some nice little Dunkirk stories to finish off with.

Today

I’m going to share some passages from a new British Army memoir by Corporal Alf Blackburn, majoring on the Sicily campaign of 1943. And there are some great action scenes as you’ll have noticed in the intros.

First, I’d like to share an action scene from Dad’s own book taken from the Normandy chapters, 1944, because it is the bedrock of how this entire episode came about:

“There was one particular patrol I was on when we ran into trouble. Our section

was walking along the back of a hedge for cover when, suddenly, a Spandau machine

gun opened up on us from the far corner of the field. Our instantaneous reaction

was to dive into the bottom of the ditch, but not before three of our lads were killed.

Their bodies were recovered later. After that failed recce we reported, as usual,

to our platoon officer, whose response was immediate. I and another lad guided

a strong patrol accompanied by two Bren gunners and pointed out where we had

got into trouble. Using sign language, we were deployed around the area of the

enemy position, with the result that our Bren gunner was able to dispatch the enemy

machine gun post, killing two Germans.

I cannot possibly list all our activities in the days that followed, without consulting

the history books and that is not my intention. The period was full of activity, during

which time we were never far from the sounds of war, much of which was the artillery

of both sides. There were many occasions when we came up against some stubborn

opposition in the form of a strongly defended farmhouse or a couple of ‘hull down’

tanks (stationed just below the brow of a hill), when an exchange of fire would develop.

At that stage of the war, the eventual result was that the enemy would either be taken

prisoner, or liquidated, if they tried to hold out against superior forces.

Whenever we halted, as we did not know how close we were to the enemy, patrols

went out to probe the land. On one of these, on 26 June, Corporal Miller went out

with six men and was killed by a sniper – poor lad – but we had become so used to

seeing sudden death that it did not play on our thoughts for long. We also lost good

old Corporal Shaw around this time.

Many prisoners were taken and some of them were Russians who were fighting

for Germany rather than go back to Russia. Others were young, fanatical Germans

about sixteen or seventeen years of age. Of course, young bodies were lying around

all over the place. What a waste.

Bill Cheall

Normandy, France

So, that was back in 1944 and I’ll leave the mention of Corporal Shaw floating in your minds for now. Back in 2010 I posted his name on the web site along with all the names mentioned in Dad’s book – that was just before I actually got Dad’s book published, in 2011.

Background

And can you believe, that those eleven odd years ago – before I even started the podcast, a certain Michael Shaw wrote to me: He said,

“Rennie Shaw was my uncle (my late father’s brother), I have recently started researching my family tree and came across your website which mentions my late uncle. Are you able to provide any information that may be of interest to me please?

Rennie was 23yrs old at death. He was the son of Herbert and Winnie Shaw. He never married and had no children. He was one of 8 children who have all now passed away. They were brought up near Skipton in North Yorks.

Unfortunately I have no photo as yet.

I'm still in the early stages of my research, but if I turn up anything interesting I'll let you know."

Regards

Michael Shaw (Bingley W Yorks)

C2010

Corporal Rennie Shaw:

6th Bn. GH

4547814

Died 26/06/1944

https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/56500895/rennie-shaw

When I heard this I was so chuffed because it’s always nice to hear from Dad’s connections in his book. They’re always long shots but I do believe in the power of the search engines to produce results over time – so here was a comrade briefly mentioned in Dad’s memoir, posted up on my website like a piece of fishing bait, and up popped Michael Shaw to ask about it.

I immediately replied to Michael with all I had on Rennie. But no photos.

Nothing more happened,

Really.

Until:

In 2022 Jim King wrote to me

Hi Paul, I am writing on behalf of my wife Jan King whose father Alfred Blackburn served in the Green Howards regiment during World War 2. He saw action in the desert in the Middle East, Sicily and D-Day.

We have learnt of your book ‘Fighting Through from Dunkirk to Hamburg’ from the Green Howards website and today ordered a copy. Good man Jim.

“During the 1970’s Alf Blackburn recorded his war time memoirs onto a cassette tape recorder. Altogether there are just over 10 hours of his memories and recollections, which cover the period from just before he was called up in 1941 until June 1944.

We noticed on your website a reference to Rennie Shaw who was mentioned in your dad’s own war memoirs, and that you have been contacted by his nephew Michael Shaw. This is of great interest to us because we believe that Rennie was Alf’s best friend during the war. He mentions him several times throughout, and they were actually planning to form a partnership after the war and go into business together! Alf was absolutely devastated when Rennie died, and his voice is full of emotion when he recounts the story about that event. We have two photos of Alf during the war pictured with somebody who we believe to be Rennie Shaw! Hopefully you can put us in touch with Michael Shaw please?
Many thanks and I look forward to your response with great interest.
Jim King

PS
We have a few photo’s and I’m pretty sure that Rennie may be in at least two of them! My thinking is that if you are going to pose for a photo with somebody, then you are more than likely going to want it to be taken with your best pal? That seems pretty obvious to me but we shall have to wait and see what Michael thinks after he has looked at them.

…

Don't you just love it when a plan comes together?!

Well, I put Jim and wife Jan in touch with Michael so they could compare notes, and this is what Michael said when he saw Alf’s photos:

Hello Jim

It seems strange looking at the photo’s as I have never seen good images of uncle Rennie.

Speaking to my father and other family members, I am 99% certain that Rennie is in the first two photos -

Pics in the show notes …

So there we go, I’ve heard from Rennie Shaw’s nephew Michael. Alf Blackburn has come to light thanks to Jim King and Jan. They’ve spoken, confirmed Rennie is present on Alf’s photos. Two families in touch. What could be better than that?

We’re going to take a break for some feedback and family story stuff now. You’ll hear where things go next, asap. In fact no matter how long it takes – it’ll be soon.

Reviews

Review 1 - More ww2 memoirs

The following people kindly left show reviews in various places:

Review 3 Jana USA FTP page

“Lovin it”

Review 4 Jack Frost

“I still love it”

Review 5 Anonymous

“Don’t we all”

Jack Frost did add:

There’s still loads of veterans around my area. I believe we have one of the biggest military cemeteries in South Dakota, where I overheard a veteran talking to a guy.  I heard something like “20 suicide planes came at us and about half of them hit us - he was talking about the Japanese kamikazes of course”

Buy the book - Darryl Barile

N Carolina

Bought one of my last hardcopies

Explore other ways of getting the book on Book in menu at FT Podcast.

Darryl said George Dallas Renegar was my grandfather and a WWII vet. He wouldn’t say much about his experiences in the war, but occasionally he would reveal a little story or two. Listening to your podcast always puts me in mind of those times. 

One of his stories involved him and two others crossing a road in France. Halfway across a German machine gun began firing on them and they all dove into the shallow ditch on the far side of the road.

There they lay with the bullets going over inches above them. My grandfather realized that because of the terrain the enemy gun couldn’t hit them as long as they lay perfectly flat and still in the ditch.

He yelled to his companions not to move, but during a lull in the firing they attempted to cross back over the road and were hit.

He never finished the story. I don’t know how he managed to escape or how his companions fared. I guess the memory was just too vivid to dwell on.

Here’s to all the veterans who gave up so much for those of us alive today. May the memory of their sacrifices never fade from our minds.

And here’s to you Paul for bringing their stories to us.

Best Wishes,

Darryl

As out bekilted cousins North of the border would say:

Lang may yer lum reek which literally means "Long may your chimney smoke!", in other words may you live long"

And as we’re talking Scottish, or trying to, I’ll apologise for the last episode when I mispoke

Slangeva as Slangevar

Cheers either way!

Buy me a coffee 2

Eric Lowe

Patreon

Martin Casson who’s a fairly new listener – ep 28. Keep it up Martin. You’ve got some great material to get through. Makes me kind of jealous.

Nancy Serra Spencer

Both sponsored me on Patreon.

Thank you chaps and chapesses, all of you

Shout outs - Best military history podcasts

Feedback WWII podcast

Feedback 1 Jake – The supa spartan44

Youtube channel

Feedback 2 Ian Sellers WWII

Ian you wrote a while ago but I’ve been saving your feedback especially for this episode because you said …

Hi Paul. I live in Whitby north Yorks and the green Howards are close to our hearts.

These young lads that fought gave their all.

It makes you wonder. how many in the future would do the same? Even in Afganhistan I know that at least one lost his life. utterly tragic.

I am on episode 42 atm. only been listening for 3-4 weeks. I work a lot of night shifts and your pod makes my night enjoyable.

I salute all in our fabulous arm forces.

Best wishes

Ian

Ian thanks for that and I’m glad you stayed on board with the pod. I know Whitby well and spent many a happy day there as a kid, including Scarborough, Redcar and Saltburn. But your staying aboard has reminded me of a puzzle I’ve had for ages. My first episode has had over 30,000 downloads, way more than the rest but it bothers me that there is something about it that puts people off staying. If anyone has any opinion as to why there is a drop off after in fact the first 2/3 episodes I’ll be interested to hear from you. It could be because ep 1 is so good that there’s been a lot of repeat listens or it could be because the nature of the show was not what people wanted. I’ll leave the thought with you. As usual, contact me through Contact button on the web site.

Feedback 3 wolfie/wolf re Christmas episode

What really great Christmas stories - Real tear jerkers – they made me think of my childhood with my grandparents and father.  Grandpa was a veteran of WW1 and my father was in WW2.
All I remember is Grandpa saying that he spent Christmas in France And my father saying how he spent time with an English family - I just remember him saying he brought them cans of fruit salad and how happy they were, which was something I never understood because I didn't like fruit salad.
wolfie/wolf

Feedback 4 Derek Whittle

I’m picturing Derek sitting by the fire with his feet up on the mantlepiece when he says this:

Claude Reynolds

“He was a legend.

An absolute legend 

Turned up

did his time

out the other side

no fuss”

Listener, Loads of episodes on Lancaster veteran Claude Reynolds – check him out

Thanks Derek.

Feedback 5

Hi Paul! I've been listening to your podcast for a couple years now. I'm a snowplough operator in Ontario, Canada and your stories make the long, cold nights a lot more enjoyable. Excited for future episodes.

Cheers!

Josh Sauve

Thanks Josh – and with the cold weather we’re currently enjoying in Europe, you’ve just put me in the mood for snuggling up on the settee and listening to my back catalogue one night.

TR

Family stories WWII

Family stories 2 – Gabriel Cervantes

Hello Paul

I was curious as to how the British government notified families of soldiers/sailors/airmen that were missing/wounded/killed during the war? Here as you probably know it was via telegram. 

I hope all is well over there and that you're not stressing over my Christmas present. Really any color Bentley is just fine. 

Your amigo,

Gabriel 

I asked because I wanted to share this letter. Hopefully it's something you can use on your pod. The second sentence in the letter says a lot! It's a letter from my uncle Jesse, written to my mother in February of 1944. He served stateside for the war. 

My uncle Jesse was handsome all his life and was very popular with the ladies. Even in the 1990s I'd run into older ladies, and the conversation was the same: "How's your mom? And how's [Chewy] Chuy?" The last question being of most interest from the grannies! 

“Feb 11, 1944

12th Ferrying Detachment Adams Field Little Rock, Arkansas 

Dearest Sis, 

I hope this letter reaches you folks on time before you write me. I was going to send a telegram but I thought perhaps you and the rest would get scared. Well the reason I’m writing this little note is because I’m shipping out for about fifteen days out of this place.

I’ll come back to this same place again.  I’m first going to Nashville, Tennessee for a while. I’m going down to become a teacher and coming right back. I was just about to get my furlough when this came up. Oh well I hope I’ll be able to get it as soon as I get back.  Well sis once I’m at it I’ll ask you if you, Cuca and dad received the little money order I send. I hope you did, if you didn’t let me know so that I can do something about it. I say this because there’s been a lot of plane crashes here lately. Yesterday an American Airliner crash on Memphis. 24 got killed. It fell right on the river.*   Well sis I’ll have to close my time is running short so I’ll just say so long for awhile. I’ll write home as soon as I get to Nashville. I’m leaving Sunday night. Say hello to all at home and give them all great big kiss.

Your brother, [Chewy] Chuy** PS How’s dad feeling now? Better I hope! = = = = = = = = = = *Per Wikipedia, American Airlines Flight 2 was a Douglas DC-3 that crashed into the Mississippi River on February 10, 1944. All twenty-four passengers and crew were killed. The ultimate cause of the crash remains a mystery.  **Jesus (pronounced “Hey-Soos” in Spanish) is a common name in Mexico.  And the nickname for Jesus is “Chuy” (Pronounced “chewy”)

Gabriel many thanks for that. We did have a brief follow up about telegrams when I explained that we used them in Britain as well, so it was never good to be receiving one. And I can understand your Uncle’s reluctance to use one. That would be real gulp time for the relatives!

War Stuff

Tanks meme

The reality of fighting in AFV’s

An armoured fighting vehicle (AFV) is a military vehicle, protected by armour and armed with weapons. Most AFVs are equipped for driving in rugged terrain. Armoured fighting vehicles are classified according to their intended role on the battlefield and characteristics. I’m assuming this really relates to tanks. But I rather think you need to tune into the We Have Ways pod to get an insightful and accurate debate on that subject!

For now, Gabriel Cervantes has sent me an equally insightful message as to how it was to fight in one of these things.

Apparently at the old Aberdeen Proving Ground about 30 years ago – maybe it’s still there. 

It was posted on an armor page for  Ft Benning, Georgia. 

The reality of fighting in afvs

The 75mm gun is firing, the 37mm gun is firing but it is traversed round the wrong way. The Browning is jammed. I am saying ‘driver advance’ on the A set and the driver who can't hear me is reversing. And as I look over the top of the turret and see 12 enemy tanks 50 yards away, someone hands me a cheese sandwich.

British tank Commander Western desert 1942

And I’d love to know what the Late Capt Stan Perry would have made of this. I so wish I’d had it to hand when I interviewed him back in episode 37?

TR

Main event

Well, after me posting up Rennie Shaw’s name on the web site and Michael Shaw getting in touch, then eleven years later, Jim Blackburn writing to me, and those two guys coming up with photos of Alf and Rennie, best army pals together, how good is that you might say. Well, brilliant I say. But not quite as good as Jim announcing that his wife Jan has only gone and written her Dad Alf’s memoirs. And not just that, but since our earlier correspondence she’s grabbed the bren gun by the horns and got the memoirs published!

Jan intro

Before I share Alf’s story, here’s what daughter Jan says about it.

This is the story of an ordinary soldier’s experiences serving with the Green Howards during World War 2.

Alf Blackburn was my father. As was the case with the majority of men of his generation, he never spoke about his wartime exploits. However, during the late 1960’s he did recount his experiences orally, and recorded them onto cassette tapes. He described his initial training and then his active service fighting in the North African Desert Campaign, Sicily and finally Normandy where he was blown up by a mortar bomb.

He explained what life was like, the places he visited and the hardships endured, without going into too much graphic detail about the horrors he must have witnessed. His genuinely modest account, which is funny at times, gives an incredible insight into his war and paints a vivid description of his adventures. Many thousands like him never came home. I have tried to faithfully transcribe his words into this book.

Jan King (nee Blackburn) July 2022

Page 3 Introduction  - how Alf’s war began in the building trade.

He starts off with the Worcester Regiment but ends up joining the Green Howards

Page 14 Joining the Green Howards to Train for the Desert

Page 16 Life in the Desert

Page 31 Advance to Mareth

Page 42 The Battle of Wadi Akarit

Page 59 Return to Alexandria

Page 69 Preparation for Sicily

Page 74 Landing on Sicily

Page 96 Onwards to Lentini

Page 103 Primosole Bridge

Page 112 Letojanni

I’m going to pick Alf’s story up just after Alf and his comrades have finished the battle of Wadi Akarit in Tunisia N Africa.

Return to Alexandria

As it turned out this was the end of the line for us; the rest of the divisions had pushed the enemy to the sea and mopped up. We were instructed to gather up our things because we were heading back along the long road to Alexandria for some well-earned leave.

We boarded the transport but this time we were driving back through all of the places with which we had become so familiar; Sousse, Sfax, Gabes, Tripoli, and on to Benghazi. Up the Tokra Pass, through the Derna Pass, Tobruk, Sidi Barrani, Mersa Matruh, El Alamein, and Bob’s your uncle, right back to square one.

We thought we were going to get three weeks leave but it turned out to be just three days. I suppose that when a whole army needed leave, logistically three days was all that could be afforded.

When we arrived at base camp, although we bedded down under canvas, there was tremendous excitement at the fact there was a tap with running water. The tap was turned on and we were larking about like school children. After the hardships of the desert, running water was a truly marvellous sight to behold. We enjoyed fresh fruit and I realised how to fully appreciate the simple joys in life.

Before beginning our leave every man in the division had to give a pint of blood. Rennie and I went together; he was in and out really quickly and then it was my turn. My blood did not flow quite so readily and they only managed to take half a pint before I was made to rest before giving the second half. I was surprised at how difficult it was to obtain a pint of blood from me. Rightly or wrongly, I believed it was evidence of how much of a toll my time in the desert had taken on my body.

We enjoyed our leave in Alex and then moved on to Suez to commence training for the operations which were to come in the days and weeks ahead. That was the end of my desert campaign, and as I said earlier, Wadi Akarit always remains uppermost in my mind; I lost many friends there, in particular Billy Fallows.

One always associated battles with the particular friendships formed, and so I look back on the desert campaign with great sadness.

Preparation for Sicily 1943

We settled into a routine of training on the flat sands just south of the town of Suez. Every couple of days we would go across the Bitter Lakes and into Sinai for manoeuvres. No one mentioned England. Even though our desert campaign had ended, we didn’t think there was a remote chance of returning home at that stage of the war. The training continued with a new R.S.M. (Regimental Sergeant Major). It soon became evident that he wanted to assert his authority with a clean sweep, as it were.

He put me on three days jankers for smoking on parade, which probably sounds quite reasonable. However, we were all sitting around smoking at the time. He arrived and told us to fall in, at which point I stood up, casually stubbed out the cigarette, and got into line. I happened to be the closest to him at the time, therefore I was singled out. I felt that he was a bit harsh, but obviously I didn’t complain; just went to get on with my jankers.

I never found the punishments given out were particularly severe; whilst on active service they were somewhat limited as to what punishments they could mete out. First of all I was sent to the cookhouse after the evening meal to help the cook with any tasks that he required.

During the day I was sent to an area in the camp which looked a bit like a dumping ground, and I was instructed to strip about 50 German S-Mines. I’d had experience of those particular mines in the past, and although the main detonators on the tops had been removed, there were still three more inside which were live, so one couldn’t take any 71 chances. One by one I had to strip down all fifty of those mines, first taking the canister to pieces, removing the detonators and gun cotton and putting each to one side. At the bottom of the canister there was a saucer-shaped, lead container filled with gunpowder. This had to be removed and saved in a separate tin; then all of the ball bearings had to be placed in another tin. Not surprisingly, I wasn’t interrupted by anyone during this task of work!

One was always wary in case there were any hidden booby traps but somehow this made it rather more exciting. On the whole it was a useful exercise and at the end of it there was nothing I didn’t know about those S-Mines. Certainly as a learning experience it was considerably better than reading an instruction manual. The knowledge I gained regarding those mines stayed with me. In fact, to this day I still believe I would be proficient in dismantling one.

There were many things to do after a tour of active duty. Apart from our training, we had to stock up on any stores we needed for the next mission. We had medical checks, more inoculations, and dental treatment such as fillings or extractions. Any kit that needed replacing was also done; I was given a new pair of boots which absolutely crippled me. Getting the correct fitting boots did not seem to be a priority. It wasn’t long before those boots became even more of a problem than I had at first anticipated. 72 The training came to an end and what seemed to me like the whole of the British Army embarked upon a Royal Navy ship. We sailed off into the Med, enjoying the beautiful blue sky and ‘life on the ocean wave’, still speculating as to our destination. Although the Allies had already attempted an abortive attempt at Greece, we still felt it was one of the possibilities. However this was not to be the case. After a couple of days at sea, the Captain’s voice came over the intercom to announce that our destination was the island of Sicily, situated at the toe of Italy. Sicily is a triangular shaped island, only separated from the mainland by a small strip of water.

While aboard ship I was still suffering incredibly due to my ill-fitting boots; I was having so much trouble that I had to report sick and pay a visit to the ship’s doctor. It was my first encounter with a Royal Navy doctor and I wasn’t too optimistic that he would know that much about feet. However, something had to be done as I knew that I couldn’t go on as they were, and I had tried everything possible to make them more comfortable. It was beginning to worry me because once we arrived at our destination; I knew that I would be on my feet 24 hours a day. I thought perhaps I would be issued with some new boots.

However, after the M.O. had spoken to me and checked my feet, his solution was for me to run around barefoot for the remainder of the voyage. Having my doubts regarding the 73 effectiveness of this treatment, I began to wonder if I would be allowed to disembark. I didn’t dwell on that idea for too long, thinking that even if my feet had been chopped off, the Army would still have found some way of getting me ashore!

The night before we were due to land I revisited the M.O. for a check-up. He asked me how my feet were and I told him they felt fine. “Put your boots back on, and with a bit of luck you won’t have any more bother”, he said. To my surprise that proved to be exactly the case, and for some reason that memory has always stayed with me. Reverting to nature is perhaps the best treatment for anyone with serious problems with their feet. And there can be no one more prone to problems with their feet than British Infantrymen on active service! 74

Landing on Sicily

Our journey soon ended and we landed at Avola, on the south east coast of Sicily. From the ship we were taken ashore on barges and somewhat surprisingly encountered no opposition whatsoever. Therefore we suffered no casualties as we landed.

After landing we immediately began climbing up into the hills. Sicily is a very mountainous island with a narrow rocky beach and a few coves. There was a road running around the coast with towns and villages dotted along the way.

The hills were covered with a variety of vegetation; there were vineyards, olives, pears, figs, and oranges. Just about every fruit that you could think of was there as we were climbing. The climb was very hard going; completely different to the terrain of the desert that we had become accustomed to.

Apart from the steep gradient we had to contend with, there was so much overgrown vegetation that it was like a jungle in places. 76 After a hard morning’s slog, we finally reached the top of the hill and were able to look back over the blue sea of the Mediterranean. It was an incredible sight; the sky and sea were beautiful shades of blue. The sea was absolutely full of our boats; the destroyers, cruisers, and landing craft, with the M.T.B.s (motor torpedo boats) weaving in and out. Far on the horizon were our two heavy battleships banging away; probably firing their shells over Mount Etna. In the centre of it all there was a beautiful white hospital ship bearing a large red cross. It stood out like a jewel in the water.

Periodically, our support aircraft were coming in across the sea; zooming over the top of our heads to attack the enemy’s air strips. The air cover provided was effective when available, but as they had to fly in from the mainland of Africa, there was a period of time during the turnaround when we had no cover at all. It wasn’t long before the Germans realised this, and timed their assaults upon us and our convoys to coincide with these turnaround times. They had to fly back to Africa, Cyprus or Malta in order to refuel.

Therefore, we only had air cover for about fifty percent of the time, and when we were without air cover we were subjected to an increase in hostile enemy air attacks.

As the enemy fighter bombers took off from the island air strips, there was very little warning of their approach. 78 They would sneak up the valley in single file formation, usually about five at a time and we weren’t aware of them until they were right amongst us. They flew over the top of the hill and zoomed down to bomb our transport convoy on the coast road. There was very little that could be done to stop them, as they flew in low at about house height, and it was virtually impossible to get our Bofors guns and other anti-aircraft weapons down to the trajectory required in order to hit them. Consequently, when we were without our air cover, we really took a pounding. This was to be our main source of worry during the coming days.

If it hadn’t been for those air raids, I would have found it difficult to keep my mind on the job in hand. I was that much in awe of the sheer beauty of the island of Sicily, and the things that were growing there. It was a completely new experience for me to be able to simply bend down to pick a tomato or take grapes from the vine.

After the harshness of the desert, we were surrounded by an abundance of new and wonderful things which seemed to be far removed from war. It may sound strange but in spite of all the fighting and battles, whenever I think of Sicily it is the beauty of the place that is uppermost in my mind.

DLI

Although our efforts in the Sicilian campaign were by no means negligible, in my opinion it was the Durham Light Infantry that made the most notable contribution. 79 We were heading up to Messina and on the way were involved in five major battles. One outstanding battle was the battle for Primosole, where once again the Durhams wrote a page for the history books, but more about that later.

We pushed on up the coast carrying all of our gear. This proved to be quite a gruelling task because the road followed the meandering coastline around the hillside which left us very exposed. It was an easy task for the Germans to attack us and in some cases demolish the road completely. This meant that we were obliged to bypass the road and make our way by going into the hills. Transporting our heavy equipment was therefore made even more arduous than it already was. Occasionally we had the use of mules to assist us but most of the time we only had ourselves, the ‘two legged mules’ to rely upon! It was extremely hard strenuous work from morning to night; in fact it was just a continuous slog, slog, slog.

At this time I was number one on the light machine gun and Rennie [Shaw] was our number two. There had been some changes to our platoon and Docherty, our R.S.M., and all soldiers that had reached a certain age were repatriated back to England.

We now had a corporal by the name of Noland, a bad tempered, surly man from Middlesbrough. He was new to us, coming from another platoon, and was very hard to get along with; no one seemed to like him. 80 I wondered if he had been transferred because of unrest and bad feeling in his previous platoon.

Ted Burton was our platoon commander and We had a [new] Sergeant Errington who was a really nice fellow. I thought he was a ‘bit of a toff’, and always showed great concern for the welfare and morale of those serving with him.

Our platoon officer, Ted Burton, was a nice chap; easy to get on with and always ready for a chat when the opportunity arose. However, to be fair, he was a little bit vain and thought that he was the best looking officer in the British army! He was I suppose quite a good looking man, but no one was impressed with looks, good or otherwise, at that stage of the game.

One of his jobs was to censor all of our mail and this could be a little bit off-putting, as he delighted in commenting on what we had written. As a consequence, we were somewhat guarded when writing our letters, concerned that they would be read out aloud for the whole section to hear. No one took offence at this; it was all part of the normal banter and camaraderie experienced when part of a close unit, and as I said, he was very well liked. Occasional light heartedness was needed in active service to relieve some of the pressures we had to contend with. We had lost so many officers in the desert campaign 81 that I teased our platoon officer, telling him that he wouldn’t last five minutes; not a very reassuring thing to say, but this was the type of banter that went on.

It was only Noland that didn’t join in with the light hearted banter, as he always seemed to be in a bad mood. He didn’t bother Rennie or me because soon after his arrival we had a showdown with him; making it plain that shouting abuse was not going to gain respect from us or get the best out of the men.

We continued to push on and at times I found the hard physical exercise satisfying, but after so many miles we were all exhausted. I was carrying the light machine gun and Rennie had the magazines, with sweat running off us as we slogged up the hillside which was about a 1 in 4 gradient. I offered to help Rennie with the magazines, as they were a terrific weight, but he was happy to carry on. I thought Rennie had the worst job as although the gun was heavy, it was easier to manoeuvre into a more comfortable position to carry.

We were heading for Sortino in the province of Syracuse, where we were to mount an attack. As we approached Sortino we could see a deep valley surrounded by rising hills. The Cheshires were already lined up along the high side of the valley, as this was to be the point from where we would begin our attack. Their ammunition was stacked up ready to go, and due to the lack of barrage fire, we would be relying on the heavy machine guns that they had struggled to carry to the top of the hillside. On reaching the top we dropped onto the deck for some long awaited and much needed rest.

We had no idea what lay ahead. There were no patrols to gather information from about the opposition. We had to advance into the unknown, underneath the heavy machine gun fire. This was to be Rennie’s first attack and I tried to reassure him, telling him that there would be at least 20 heavy machine guns firing over us. I also told him to keep his head down!

The order was given to stand-to and the decision was made to keep the Bren guns in our section all together, which I must admit I found to be a little foolish. As being grouped 84 together meant that if one got hit, then so would the rest, and bang would go all of our firepower. But of course we had to follow the order to the letter.

Along with Rennie, Ted Burton, and myself there was another young chap in our section; a staunch Welshman who went by the name of Toby. He was a lance corporal and on his arm there was a large snake and a dagger, with the words DEATH BEFORE DISHONOUR. This amused me immensely and I used to tease him about it, although I knew that it was all to do with his Welsh pride. He was a likable chap and very easy to get on with. We stood in darkness, at the ready, preparing to advance down the valley under the fire of our heavy machine guns. I said to Rennie, “Don’t panic because in a minute these guns will go off and all hell will break loose; the noise will be terrific but don’t worry they are our own guns.” Ted Burton had never experienced it and neither had Rennie; I knew how scary it would sound for them and so I was quite prepared for what happened next. I was listening to the sergeant in charge of the guns, because as soon as he gave the order, they would all open up together.

The order was given and the guns began to fire. Unless you’ve experienced it, the noise of about 20 Vickers machine guns going off over your head is hard to imagine, and almost impossible to describe. Ted Burton hit the deck and Rennie was about to follow, until I grabbed him by the 85 arm saying “I told you what would happen.” Ted was lying face down and I was struggling to speak with laughter. “What are you doing down there?” I said rather sheepishly, as he was an officer. Ted Burton rose to his feet. “Phew, that frightened the life out of me”, he said. Still laughing I said, “We haven’t started fighting yet. Those are our guns!”

I was enjoying myself by teasing them but we quickly had to get back to the job in hand that we were there for. After about 10-15 minutes of solid fire, we were given the order to advance. Keeping below the level of bullets from our machine guns was not difficult to do, because the slope into the valley was quite steep, and as the guns had such a terrific range, we were initially in no danger of being hit.

The guns continued to pour lead into the German positions as we made our way down the steep grassy slope. Slowly at first, then the pace quickened a little, and then increasing to a trot before finally we were running like the clappers. And don’t forget, all of this was undertaken in total darkness!

As I said, our three guns were together; Toby and I were side by side with Rennie at the rear. Toby started to speed up down the slope shouting in Welsh as he went, working himself up into a right frenzy with shouting that sounded to me like some ancient Welsh battle cries! 86 We eventually reached our position and as far as I could see there was nothing to shoot at. We were ordered to dig in and settle down until morning. At first light we looked around but there was nothing to be seen except for one dead German lying in the grass a few hundred yards away.

Word arrived that our commanding officer had been shot in the leg, and that along with the dead German, was the only casualty of that particular battle. No one knew who had shot either but I could state with complete confidence that I was not responsible for shooting the C.O. as I had not fired my gun at all. Toby was amazed that I had been through all of that without firing, and was still in possession of a full magazine.

At the end of every battle we had to strip down our weapons, and clean them ready for inspection, but as mine had not been fired I was spared that particular chore, much to the annoyance of Toby.

On that occasion I couldn’t see anything to shoot at and didn’t see the point of firing at nothing. I restarted my gentle teasing of Toby mentioning his battle cries, but he never did tell me what he was actually shouting. That was our first battle on the island of Sicily and when it was over, we moved into the orange groves and dug in. 87 Every time we passed through a village or township, the people greeted us with bottles of wine and garlands of flowers. The women and children would pass me by because of the gun, and then mobbed the rest of the section showering them with the flowers, wine and kisses. It was only the old men of the village that showed no fear of the gun. I did on occasion, try to get someone else to carry the gun but no one would oblige, so I was stuck with it and not too happy about it. I was getting a bit sick of kissing old men, and it would have made a pleasant change to have experienced something more to my taste!

Our lines of advance through the villages were often mined by the Germans making our lives even more hazardous. As we approached one village we saw one villager’s chair outside his cottage. On looking closer we could see that he had placed his chair directly over one of the German mines. Then we saw the rest of the street; all the villagers had marked the position of every mine so that we could safely pass. I found this very touching and gratifying to know that the Sicilian people had confidence in us. On passing the old boy sitting outside his cottage, we showered him with sweets and chocolate and left him smiling and looking very pleased with himself.

We continued advancing along the coast road taking turns at being point section. I clearly remember one morning when Rennie and I were leading the platoon, or rather the 91 whole company. We were probing forward and as I had the gun, I was at the front with Rennie by my side. We had been instructed there was a river ahead and our initial aim was to reach the river and reconnoitre the area. At every bend we came to, we stopped, anticipating sighting the river, which we thought would have a bridge with the enemy defending it. On one occasion after stopping, we turned to look behind us and were amazed at the sight that greeted us.

We could see for miles down the long coast road and I’m sure we could see the whole Army behind us including all of our transport vehicles. It suddenly dawned on us the ‘power’ that we had over our own oncoming troops; because every time we stopped, then of course everyone else had to stop as well. Therefore we decided to stop every now and then, even when it was unnecessary, just for a bit of fun! It might have been a bit of a silly thing to do looking back but it helped us to relieve the monotony of the march. Although of course we still had to remain alert, as we never knew what was around the next bend.

On approaching one such bend we heard someone whistling and singing. We waited nervously but it turned out to be a Sicilian carrying a basket of peaches and appearing not to have a care in the world. We were obliged to stop and search him, during which time he was chatting away 92 constantly, but of course we couldn’t understand a word that he said.

We tried to get some information from him; asking about Tedeschi, which was their word for the Germans. “Tedeschi finite” was all we could understand. As far as he was concerned the war was over. It did occur to me that he was of an age that one would expect him to be in the armed forces. I wondered if he had deserted because it was well known that the Italian soldiers were becoming more and more demoralised, and many were surrendering where and whenever they could. After searching his basket we allowed him to continue on his way, but first he gave Rennie and me two of his peaches. They were delicious and I’m sure he didn’t get far down the line before his basket became empty! It was heartening to hear from the young Sicilian that the Germans were nowhere in the near vicinity, so as we approached the next bend we were feeling slightly more relaxed.

On the other side of the bend, we found the river we had been looking for but it turned out to be a dry river bed, a common occurrence in the area. We crossed over the river bed and proceeded up the coast road with our transport following along behind. We moved up the hillside and dug in, among what looked like lava rocks. They were very rough and black, and I thought they were probably volcanic; bearing in mind we were not too far away from Etna. 93 As we seemed to have a quiet moment, Rennie and I decided to tidy ourselves up by having a quick wash and shave. Down the road in the valley our transport was also pulling in for the night, along with the light machine gun carriers that accompanied us on minor sorties.

Rennie and I were halfway through our shave when suddenly over the top of the hill down came the Messerschmitts and the fighter bombers. Some of which had already discarded their bombs so they would strafe us with cannon fire. They flew down in single file strafing along the middle of the road, knocking hell out of our transport and shooting up the carriers. Rennie and I were in a good position to observe all of this. However, things quickly took a turn for the worse when over the hill appeared a fifth plane and this was carrying a massive bomb. It looked massive to us because it was flying so low, and appeared to be just over our heads. As he zoomed down towards the convoy this huge bomb was detached. We were presented with a very eerie sight, as this huge, vicious-looking, black bomb on being released seemed to be hanging in the air, nose pointing downwards. It appeared to be aimed directly between our eyes.