"Dreams - Really Do Come True" - A Book By Gordon Beard

From Adolescence To Battle Trained Soldier

The summer of 1939 was a wet one, strong winds and heavy rain had ruined the harvest.

Earlier that year I had fulfilled my school boy dream and signed on at the Drill hall Chelmsford for Territorial service, declaring falsely my age was 17, although in truth I was 16 and one month.

At 17 I was entitled to full rank Private and would be issued with a rifle, so I was now Pte. Beard G C No 6014467 attached to the 1st/5th Battalion Essex Regiment. A very happy man.

During the last week of August every one listened in on the radio for the latest political news anticipating an announcement that a war was imminent. The family at Hopkins farm the home of the Beard’s gathered round the home made wooden box with two round knobs with numbers inscribed on them, number 60 on the left hand one was aligned with the black mark inscribed above it which tuned in the BBC home service from Daventry, the news was grim but Chamberlain our Prime minister had assured us he would negotiate peace the family tucked in to the evening meal relieved, Dad reminisced on his war time service at the front and how he had been deafened by the loud explosion as the British fired “Big Bertha” an enormous field gun right beside him, I tried not to show it but inwardly I was disappointed I could not wait for my name to be called up for military service and an opportunity to use my new rifle.

Wearing my T.A. badge circa 1939

On Friday the 1st of September I had been helping Teddy Smith at Games farm High Easter cut the field of wheat which was badly flattened by the weather. I was walking ahead of the tractor pulling the binder and lifting the heads of wheat with my pitch fork to enable the machine to harvest the corn, when a sudden excited shout from John the farmers son caused me to look up as he raced towards me with the news that all Territorials’ had to report for duty immediately, the announcement had been made on the 6 o’clock news bulletin.

I thrust my pitch fork deep into the ground gathered my coat, poured one last pint of home made beer from the barrel that Teddy had brewed himself and positioned on the head land for our refreshment, then raced home on my bicycle and by 7.30 pm having joined John Perry at Stagden cross had cycled the 10 miles to Chelmsford and reported for duty, to our surprise we were the only two to arrive that night the rest were not so excited as us and decided Saturday morning would do, the army were not prepared for us and we were given three blankets and told to bed down on the Drill hall floor.

Next day we were allocated Billets in Cramphorn Road where we were given B & B and evening tea. Dinner was served at midday in the army cookhouse in the confiscated car repair garage in Rainsford road. Intensive training was given in Hylands Park, I enjoyed the rifle and bayonet drill, we had to fix bayonets and give out a blood curdling scream as we drove our bayonet into the sack of straw that represented a German soldier, one less to invade our precious land I thought.

Long route marches were introduced next, three, six then ten miles lead by our Sergeant Major Taffy Williams a real old soldier and well respected man. He would encourage singing as we marched along, and we replied with: “Our Sergeant Major has a crown upon his arm and he won it on the crown and anchor board”. Crown and Anchor was a gambling game played in the NAAFI during the evening. The day I had been waiting for soon arrived, Rifle shooting on the firing range at Warley near Brentwood and I excelled winning my marksman badge which was proudly stitched on the right sleeve of my uniform. Shortly afterwards HQ company of which I was a member lead by Captain John Cramphorn the boss of the seed company, later Cramphorns’ Nursery was given our first task of real soldiering, guarding the airfield, at first Hornchurch, then North Weald and at the latter I witnessed the arrival of three Blenheim Beaufighter bombers, as they landed on their return from the first bombing raid of the war.

Alas all good things must come to an end they say and at the end of November the names of sixty of us was posted on the notice-board, mine included for transfer to the Royal Engineers at Stanstead Essex. They can’t do this to us we screamed as we read the notice we volunteered as infantry men, but orders are orders they say and the penalty for disobeying them in war time was to be shot at dawn.

The very light Ack Ack

The first day of December 1939 was the saddest day of my army career all my dreams of becoming an infantry man were shattered all because some ‘brass hat’ at the war office had overlooked the shortage of men required to man our anti-aircraft defences plus the records of sixty Essex regiment lads disclosed they were under age for service abroad along with a further sixty from the Sherwood Foresters.

As the army trucks with their canvas hoods under which us downhearted lads sat, entered the newly built training camp at Stanstead Mount Fitchet our hearts could not believe the figures we saw slouching un-soldier-like, peaked caps bent down over the ears, brass buttons unpolished for weeks and of all things they wore Balaclava head gear under the caps and long woollen scarves round their necks. What a disgrace to the British army we thought. Later on we learned these were men resting from front line service on the isolated search-light sites.

Reluctantly we handed in our Essex Regiment regalia and replaced it with that of the Royal Engineers and soon knuckled down to learning new skills operating a search-light battery. I was now temporarily a Royal Engineer soon to be Gunner Beard G C.

Search-light duty

We were assessed and allocated a given roll to learn. The search-light crew are given numbers. Number 1 must be a rank of full corporal or sergeant and is Site Commander. Numbers 2 and 3 are spotters and use high-powered night vision binoculars to locate the aircraft and verbally guide the beam on to the target. They lay in horizontal chairs one either side of the search light. Number 4 is the long arm man who steers the search light by the ‘long-arm’ with a steering wheel attached to control the elevation (see photo below). Number 5 is a skilled electrician who operates the carbon candles that produce the beam. Numbers 6, 7 and 8 operated the sound locator to pick up the sound of an aircraft. These men are selected for their ability to sense when the sound is equal in both ears -called the biaural spot. Number 6, a Lance corporal, is in charge of the Listeners, relays the bearing and elevation to Number 1, who shouts the bearing and elevation to Number 4, who then moves the search light round so the pointer corresponded to the bearing scale at the base of the unit and elevation scale on the side, Number 1 then shouts “Expose” and Number 5 pushes the knife switch in, causing the carbon candles to part to the pre-set distance and the arc is struck producing a million candle power of beam to light the area near the target. The spotters then come into action to guide the beam again by verbal instructions, ”left, up a bit, stop, down, and on target“.

Most important is the Number 9, not just because that was my number but also because he was responsible for producing and delivering the electricity to the search light. Because the noise of his generator would drown the sound of the aircraft to the Listeners, Numbers 7 & 8, his vehicle had to be positioned 300 yards from the equipment if possible in a farm yard behind farm buildings or a thick hedge. So that completes the crew and their roles.

The Searchlight

Technical Data

The Projector as the Search light was called, was a 90 centimetre round barrel, mounted on a steel platform with free wheeling (not driven) caterpillar tracks, the rear of the barrel had a detachable 1 inch thick parabola mirror and the front of the barrel had a re-enforced clear glass panel, the barrel was mounted on a “U” shaped support on bearings which allowed horizontal and elevation movement, a bearing scale was fitted below the “U” and an elevation scale on the side. The whole projector had to be lined up by compass so the “zero” on the horizontal scale pointed north. Extending from the barrel was the ‘long-arm’ some 10 feet long with the afore mentioned steering wheel attached, the power cables from the generator were joined by thumb screws to terminals fitted to the base of the projector.

The lamp a removable unit was fitted inside the barrel, a metal frame work supported the two carbon candles which produced the beam. The positive candle was fitted horizontally and revolved by chain and cog wheel driven by an electric motor below. This was necessary to ensure an even burn of the candle. The negative candle was held at 45 degrees and did not revolve, it was pencil shaped at the tip and hinged so it could move up and down a set distance from the positive candle to strike arc, this distance was set by Number 5 with a special gauge, to strike arc Number 5 engaged a knife-switch.

To send electric power to the lamp and a solenoid was electrically charged and pulled the negative candle apart from the positive one. The aim of Number 5 was to produce the narrowest beam he could to give utmost penetration of any cloud. He adjusted the focus by looking through a small window with black glass and turning a knob to move the lamp towards or away from the mirror. A small extraction fan was fitted to the top of the projector to draw out the heat.

The Sound Locator

This was a simple non technical piece of equipment. It consisted of a pair of metal tubular tri-pods set in the ground 6 feet apart connected by a horizontal axle pivoted in the centre, at each end was a square wooden mega-phone with a rubber hose connecting each to the head phones worn by Number 7, a similar pair of mega-phones were mounted vertically and connected to the ear-phones of number 8. The whole equipment was positioned due north.

The Generator

There were two types, petrol driven lorry or a diesel engine mounted on a trailer. The original lorry was specially built by Tilling Stevens and based on a world war one heavy duty ten ton truck, the cab was open plan with only a folding canvas hood to protect the driver from the elements, no wind screen or cab doors, the engine mounted under the bonnet was huge and had four cylinders. No battery as a magneto provided the spark. The vehicle had a unique electric gear box and a lever below the steering wheel had three positions neutral, forward or reverse. Between the gearbox and the rear axle a huge Dynamo was installed which was constantly engaged, this provided D.C. electricity for the projector and a cable containing a positive and negative wire each the thickness of a Churchillian cigar and 300 yards long was attached to two terminals on the chassis midway between the road wheels. When the vehicle was stationary and required as a generator, the accelerator linkage was disconnected and attached to a solenoid which controlled the engine speed. A small wheel at the top of the solenoid was adjusted up or down by Number 9 who watched the needle of the volt metre and maintained a constant 80 volts, when arc was struck by Number 5 the load almost stalled the engine, so it was important to keep the engine running all night to keep it hot. On load the ammeter would register 150 amps.

The Lister Generator, which was fitted with a Mawdsley dynamo

The diesel built by Lister was colossal, and its radiator stood 8 feet high the four huge cylinder blocks were the size of an Austin Mini and a large dynamo was driven from the end of the crank shaft. A control panel was mounted in front of the dynamo with ammeter, volt metre and rheostat to control the output. Two huge fuses and a knife- switch, the terminals for the cable were beneath the knife-switch. Imagine how proud I was to be in charge of such a monster The starting handle alone weighed more than I did It was designed so two men one either side could put both hands on and swing it to start the engine, yet I mastered the art with great determination and dexterity single handed, because the knack was to engage full compression by pulling a lever down at precisely the right moment. Now you can see why I wore such a big hat in my army uniform photo.

The System

Search light sites were positioned at three mile intervals in either direction this enabled the control room staff to work out the height and direction the aircraft was flying, this was calculated by comparing the bearing and elevation readings from three separate sites.

Imagine a row of gaming dice with number five upper-most and stretching from the East-coast to London. Each dot represents a search light. The centre lights were always the HQ and controlling ones. As an aircraft approached the coast the HQ light would expose its beam at 30 degrees elevation out to sea on target. Immediately the lights north and south on the eastern side would expose converging on the target. For safety reasons no light was allowed to go lower than 30 degrees. These three lights would follow the target westwards in an arc until the north and south lights who were further east reached 30 degrees in a westerly direction. Then the leading north and south lights on the next imaginary dice would expose and allow the original lights to douse and so the target was tracked with no less than three lights at a time. Sad to say there were not enough fighters to engage the target when we illuminated it. All allied aircraft carried two different coloured flares predetermined by the War Office and top secret which could be dropped to tell us to douse the light. A given letter was signalled on the aircraft’s downward recognition lamp by Morse code to confirm their identity, as sometimes the enemy would copy the flares. The colours and recognition letter were changed at 2.30 am.

A service we enjoyed giving was the “Homing service”. If an allied aircraft had lost the use of it’s navigational aids when returning from a raid, the pilot would radio ahead for this service. A certain airfield would be designated for them to land and we would expose all searchlights simultaneously at 30 degrees in the direction of this airfield. The pilot would follow any beam to get him home. As soon as he had landed he would send a thank you message to all searchlight sites.

Elsie

With the arrival of radar code named “Elsie” the whole system was changed, some sites were closed as it was no longer necessary to converge three beams on target to get an accurate flight path, and the Projectors were clustered three on a site, with just one Radar, some sites were moved a short distance if they had been located on a hill as Radar worked best in a hollow. Spotters were no longer required nor was Number 4 the ‘long-arm’ man. The sound locator crew were retrained to operate the radar set. The radar swung the projector round to the correct bearing and elevation by remote control. The duty of the searchlight crew was now extended to day and night for although the projector was not required during the day the radar was, so 24 hour information was sent to the control room. During the height of the battle our crew was on constant duty for 36 hours on one occasion.

‘ELSIE’ A radar controlled searchlight

Routine on site

The Essex and Sherwood Forester boys knuckled down to learn the new skills and by Christmas 1939 training was complete, and we were allowed home for 48 hours leave.

When we came back we were distributed around the sites in groups of three to start a new role. The men we replaced were given overdue leave or returned to HQ for a rest. The conditions on site were very primitive. One wooden hut served as sleeping quarters and living room, canvas covered camp beds were spaced four feet apart with a wooden shelf over the head of the bed and a couple of coat hooks on the wall and that was all. All ones possessions had to be kept in a kitbag which served as a pillow, pretty uncomfortable if the head rested on a pair of army boots inside. The mattress was a linen palliasse filled with barley straw and three blankets which without sheets were rough to the body not that we allowed much bare body to touch them as we had to be ready to jump out quick on stand to, so we slept in shirt and pants. We only had a few hours sleep as raids started at 10.00 pm and we didn’t get stand down until 4 or 5 am and immediately one of us had to stay out on guard duty for an hour. There were 8 men to cover 24 hour guard duty - Number 1 and the cook were excused.

We were allowed one hour extra sleep after reveille (7 00am), for each hour we were on duty after midnight. The cook woke us with ‘gun fire’ as the ‘billy-can’ of tea was called. Our beds had to be made up; palliasse rolled up; blankets folded neatly with the respirator on top and Steel helmet on top of that. Our webbing kit, brass polished, webbing Blanco’ed green, laid out on the bed ready for inspection

After breakfast, two hours maintenance was carried out on the generator, projector, etc, at the end a test was carried out, the beam was exposed to ensure every thing was in working order, the projector was turned round to face north away from the sun as the mirror could reflect the sun and cause a fire.

The wash room was an area away from the hut completely in the open cordoned off with a three feet high canvas wind break and a wooden bench in the centre to rest ones bowl of hot water and a shelf at the top to stand the metal army issue mirror on, the waste water ran into the ground. Water was contained in a 500 gallon tank which we replenished from the nearest well. The cookhouse was beside the living hut and was built of corrugated iron with an opening without a door, the stove was a coal fired range. Communication was by Radio/ telephone battery operated and directed to the HQ site, all messages were in code and this had to be manned 24 hours, so the routine was one hour guard duty followed by one hour on the R/T. A dispatch rider came daily with our mail, both personal and official.

There was no electricity or telephone on site. Lighting was by storm proof Tilley lamps. A wooden bench with a form each side occupied the centre of the living hut and served as dining table and for recreation use. One corner of the hut was used as a bar where beer could be bought from the barrel supplied and maintained by the local publican. One soldier was elected barman. There was little time for recreation, with reveille at 11.00am, maintenance, training, for example Morse code had to be learned, aircraft recognition swotted, we were required to recognise all war planes, ours, the Germans, Italians, and Japanese, Ours and the Germans by sight and sound.

Our recreation time was from 6.00pm till the first air-raid. We played cards, some times a sing song accompanied by a banjo, or wrote letters. Between this was the 24 hour sentry duty. In daylight the sentry occupied the circular sand bag built gun-pit, the walls were shoulder height, in the centre a wooden post held a Lewis machine gun to combat a low flying attack. I had the pleasure of shooting at a Dornier 17 which was limping back home at 1000 feet, I claimed it when I was told it crashed in the north sea, did the bullets reach it I wonder, never mind I carved a nick on my bed post. Whoops! I think this is supposed to mean other conquests.

At night the sentry patrolled the site and was required to challenge all personnel with the words “Halt who goes there” this was repeated three times if necessary, if no reply you shot him. The sentry carried a torch and five rounds of ammunition which was passed to his relief. He was responsible for waking his own relief. The NCO in charge of the site had his own hut. With the introduction of radar, living conditions were improved, a wash-room was built and a recreation hut added. Plus a Nissan hut was added for extra sleeping accommodation as we now numbered thirty personnel.

My first Site

Myself and a couple of lads from the Sherwood Foresters were introduced to the crew at Gt. Saling Essex, in a Snow storm with bitter easterly winds howling and already blowing the snow into drifts. The greeting was a welcome one, but there were looks of amazement on their faces as they scrutinised us, our uniforms immaculately pressed, buttons and boots brightly polished, as we marched in true Infantry style, proud to represent our ex-regiments.

We were soon enjoying a welcome drink of tea and exchanging information on each others back grounds. How very contrasting they were to us, we the sons of agricultural labourers and miners and potters, they were all members of the London stock exchange, who had only joined the Territorial army as a drinking club not anticipating war to break out. They were only tolerating their present circumstances until they were accepted at O.C.T.U. to train as Officers where they all eventually went and became gallant leaders of men in various theatres of war. The man I was relieving as Number 9 was called ‘Floppy’ Phelps, a skilled racing car driver who had raced at Brooklyn’s. He had received his entry papers for O.C.T.U. at Sandhurst, soon the Lister diesel generator was handed over to me

Normally in winter the generator was started up ten minutes before the end of the sentry’s duty and switched off by his relief twenty minutes later, however, due to the severe weather conditions and extremely low temperatures orders were given for the generator to be kept running all night as anti-freeze was not around as yet. On sentry duty that night I absolutely froze the thick army clothes were good but my face ears and neck suffered badly. Next day the Sergeant in charge offered me a Balaclava and hand knitted scarf with the compliments of the W.V.S. Now I can understand the reason and necessity for those scarves and Balaclavas the Royal Engineers were wearing at Stansted. Sorry Chaps.

By the end of my first week the site was completely cut off by snow drifts, this did allow us a full night’s sleep as we did not expose the beam in low cloud as it only reflected a large area of ground. One morning I attended my Lister for maintenance and refuelling to find the diesel had frozen stopping the engine and the radiator was frozen solid. Thanks to the local farmer the road was cleared so the fitter could get to us and fit a new radiator and thaw out the pipes, as soon as he went I began cleaning the oily mess he had left on my normally gleaming engine, I failed to spot he had not replaced the wire mesh guard over the fan and next minute I was being pulled face first into the fan blades by the end of my scarf, instantly I jumped off the trailer, luckily the W.V.S. had loosely knitted my scarf and it tore apart, I passed out and was taken to hospital with friction burns to my neck.

Soon after my return I was posted to the site at Topplesfield to relieve the Number 9 there, who was going on leave. The site was attached to a farm and a wire fence separated us from the farm house. It was customary to buy extra milk from the farmer as we only had evaporated milk issued with our rations, the farmers daughter, a buxom lass, would bring the milk to the wire and hand it over in a jug, on this occasion I was designated to go and collect it but why were the chaps laughing as they asked me to go?

I was soon to find out, as she handed over the jug of milk she grabbed me in an embrace and physical contact was made through the wire netting, I returned to the hut red faced and with only half a jug of milk. And my mates all burst into laughter.

My next site was over the border of Essex into Suffolk I forgot to mention the 33rd Searchlight Regiment of which I belonged comprised of three company’s 332, 333, and 334, and stretched from Barnet to Bradfield St. Clare in Suffolk. 334 operated in the Barnet area, 333 the Stansted area and 332, my company, around Gt. Yeldham. Our HQ was at Gt. Yeldham. We took over several important buildings, the cook-house was in the Old Reading Room, the workshop for vehicle maintenance was in Whitlock’s Yard and the control-room was in a back room in the White Hart Inn, to name but a few.

My new site was down a narrow country lane called The Folly with only one house in its entire length in the village of Lawshall, we were situated in a meadow halfway down this lane completely isolated. The Lister generator was positioned beside the road under a thick hedge and my bed was tucked under the branches so I was on hand when called to stand to, no hut just the hedge as my roof and walls. I was connected to the main site by a field telephone a relic of the Great War a pair of huge bells would ring which could be heard above the sound of the Lister.

No one ever passed down this road except the occupants of the farm on foot to till the fields, so, I was surprised one evening to hear the barking of a small dog and at the end of the lead a couple of pretty girls using the walking of the dog as an excuse to get out and hoping to meet a soldier. I chatted with them and they told me they lived a mile and a half away and the daughters of the local game-keeper. I asked if either of them would be willing to press my trousers as the only means of doing so was to put them under the Palliasse at night, the elder of the two and the one I fancied offered and this was the beginning of a romance, mostly by letter as I did not stop long on this site as was customary, as every time a Number 9 was granted leave we were all shuffled around.

I was awoken one morning by a surprise visit by Les Syson and Jackie Bloor a couple of my mates from the Sherwood Forester’s who had sneaked up on me as I was still in bed there was a severe frost and the grass was all white, without ado they lifted my bed with me in it and placed it in the middle of the meadow and left me to negotiate my way back in bare feet and under pants. Surprisingly they are the only ones I kept in contact with - Les in Ilkeston Derbyshire and Jackie in Swadlincote. Sadly Jackie has now passed on.

Joan Best, as the girl I met at Lawshall was named, was struck down with the killer disease TB shortly after we met and was sent to the Sanatorium at Nayland Essex to receive treatment her left lung the diseased one was collapsed and kept down by the constant injection of oxygen by needle through the rib cage, and open air and the perfume from fir trees was believed to be the only hope of cure, needless to say few did survive, her father and I visited her one Sunday after a 22 mile cycle ride to find her in a chalet her bed pulled out on to the veranda the bed covers white with snow the fresh air will do wonders for her we were told, she was a tough cookie and somehow survived three years of that treatment and when she was released in the spring of 1943.

I asked her father for her hand in marriage, we had to get permission from her TB doctor who agreed but warned us no children, a bit late that advice she was already pregnant and gave birth to a 5 pound 4 oz. baby girl in The White Lodge TB Hospital at Newmarket by Caesarean section. I was granted compassionate leave for seven days and cycled the eighteen miles from Lawshall to Newmarket each day to visit her. We married on a seven day pass in my own Parish church at High Easter, Essex, by the Reverent B. H. Vincent on the 6th of February 1943.

Joan wore a lilac dress and I was in uniform, due to the war no photographs were taken and a sparse wedding reception was held at Hopkins Farm, my brothers and sisters and Joan’s forfeited there butter and sugar rations towards it. I returned to the Searchlight site at Shimpling Suffolk and Joan stayed at Hopkins farm. A lonely girl in a strange environment, with a baby to care for because she had TB she had to bottle feed the baby a very rare thing at this time. Another handicap was she had lost the sight of her left eye in an accident in her child hood, also her lung was still suppressed and would remain so for the next six to seven years. Our son was born at the same hospital five years later also by Caesarean section still with her lung down.

My enthusiasm for war waned from this point on, my goal was now to get home and undertake my responsibilities as a father and husband. Back at the site at Shimpling I arrived to find the whole crew vomiting, It was Sunday and it was usual on Sunday morning for the sentry coming off duty at reveille to cook the breakfast thus allowing the cook to have a lay in A tin was kept on top of the stove with fat in to fry the eggs and bacon, unfortunately a second tin was there with diesel in to get the fire started and yes, you guessed it. ‘Winnie’ Winters cooked the breakfast in diesel oil.

One night whilst we had captured a German bomber in our beam he gave a burst of 303 bullets down at us this often happened and mostly they ricocheted off the projector and our steel helmets but on this occasion a 300 lb. bomb followed causing us all to lie flat as it whistled over our heads and exploded in the next field.

The crew were invited once a month for baths at the rectory one of the few houses to have this facility we went in pairs, I was paired with the site commander Eric Marsh a handsome fellow and a Stock Exchange employee. He went up for his bath first and through the partly open door I noticed the Vicar’s wife follow him up. Her husband had volunteered as an Army Padre and was serving in France. I supposed she was showing him the bathroom, but I did not get an escort and she did not re-appear.

Some of the Shimpling Searchlight Battery (r. to l.) Corp. Eric Marsh, Sapper ‘Winnie’ Winters, Sapper Mallaluie, u/known, Sapper Raymond, Sapper Boulter, Sapper Beard (wearing my helmet as I was on guard duty) and u/known

In my Royal Engineers uniform at the Shimpling searchlight site 1940

My next site was at Bradfield St. Clare and as we were clustered three projectors and vehicles were on site after the arrival of radar and the three generator operators now had a hut of their own near the vehicles, I must explain that the electricity cables went from the individual generators to the projectors and then on to the radar set, and as afore mentioned after maintenance each day we would test all equipment, on this occasion the radar operator rung through for power to test, I thrust the knife-switch in and obliged, when the telephone went berserk with ringing, luckily I did not wait to answer it I just pulled the knife-switch, my best friend Eric Sharp the number five was inside the projector with the knife-switch engaged still polishing the mirror when arc was automatically struck he was a very lucky man not to be burnt or blinded. The Radar man should have checked with him before calling for power. Soon after this we were given orders to move the equipment three miles to a farm at Old Hall farm Cockfield the battle of Britain was won .

I had to move on again to Sible Hedingham near Braintree Essex and missed an exciting incident back at Cockfield. My friend Roy Kirby, who along with Jack Lawes and myself operated the generators, was walking back to his hut near the generators after having been allowed a rare visit to the pub and rules were he had to be back on site for stand to at 10.00pm sharp, but he got involved with a girl and it was near midnight when he got back and so was automatically put on a charge. However, as he approached his hut a plane crashed in the field nearby, he grabbed his rifle thinking it was a German and ran to it the plane was in flames and bullets were exploding in all directions and the crew were screaming, he smashed the cockpit window with his rifle butt and five out of the six crew managed to get out. To his surprise they were English, the Wireless Operator was screaming in pain as the flames engulfed him but he was trapped by his legs and Roy had to leave him. Local people had arrived by now and one of them reported the bravery of Roy and he was awarded the B.E.M. and let off the charge.

Next move involved the whole regiment we moved to Kent to tackle the menace of the doodlebugs. Our head quarters was at Gillingham and I was stationed on a site at Leysdown and our hut was 100 yards from the beach. What a contrast from the lonely isolated sites in Suffolk all the houses in the area had been forsaken during the war as they were all holiday homes so we had the beach to ourselves, they say though all good things must come to an end and after a couple of months, the war office decided to release us from defence duties and replace us with A.T.S. girls.

So after five years longing to get back to the infantry we were suddenly released. I was assessed and passed for the Royal Army Service Corps I was now more keen to drive heavy vehicles than kill Germans with a bayonet and so my destination was Bradford in Yorkshire our head quarters being at Horton Old Hall, a mile from the city centre.

A new experience another disappointment

At Bradford myself and about twenty others were given a six-week intensive driving course on the road from 7.00am to 7.00pm driving a different heavy goods vehicle each day, locally for the first two weeks then we moved to Darley Dale to gain experience on the steep hills and narrow roads around Matlock, Bakewell, Buxton, to name but a few. Little did we realise how important this experience was soon to become after we had passed the final passing out test in Chesterfield.

We returned to Horton Old Hall Bradford now experienced drivers, for although I had passed my first driving test at the end of my training as a Number 9 at Stansted Essex in February 1940, I had very little road experience. A few days later we were introduced to our new vehicles 30 ton Scammel tank-transporters. Well what a shock and I thought the Tilling Stevens searchlight vehicles were big, but these were monsters. The tractor was a six wheeled unit and driven by both sets of rear wheels, the semi trailer was mounted on 8 wheels mounted at the rear although the unit was rated at 30 tons it carried loads of 70 to 80 tons, one Churchill tank weighing 60 tons, or we carried two thirty- five ton smaller tanks. The overall length must have been fifty or more feet and the engine was a 112 horse power diesel with a top speed of 16 miles per hour. My disappointment was that whereas 707 and 709 TT Company’s were going to France to operate and my company 708 was to operate in England transporting tanks from Liverpool to Southampton my wish to serve abroad was shattered.

The Scammell Pioneer SV 30 ton tractor used for towing tank-transporter trailers

We travelled in convoy, I cannot remember how many, the convoy speed was 10 miles per hour, but trying to keep the speed down on steep hills was very difficult, gears were insufficient to hold back the tremendous weight and the air brakes had to be used with economy as many a driver found out to their peril when approaching a round-a-bout at the bottom of a long hill the air tanks would be empty and the county council gardener would have the job of re-planting the flower beds as the massive units ploughed straight over.

I only did a few trips with these monsters unfortunately as I really enjoyed the challenge. The Regimental Sergeant-Major asked me if I would be prepared to accept the post of Driver/Batman to the Commanding officer a very privileged position with perks I could not refuse.

My new bed was in the comfort of the officers’ mess a large house which had been taken from its owner by the war office under the war time act. A life of luxury from now on for me I enjoyed the same meals as the officers I lived in as a servant, no more parades, drill or guard duty and freedom to go out on the town each night, so long as I kept the C.O. Major Hocking happy his uniform pressed, buttons polished to a very high standard and his room clean and his bed made. He was a real gent and easy to please, he only called on me to drive him in his Humber snipe staff car when he went on long journeys. As the Tank Transporter Companies were under the direct command of the War Office I frequently drove him there, somewhere in London, he would give me direction on where to go as it was hush-hush.

Some months later he was transferred to Liverpool to take command of 336 T.T. Company R.A.S.C. and he took me with him, this company had just returned from North Africa having done three years transporting tanks across the desert. The officers’ mess was in Mossley Hill a short tram ride from the city centre of Liverpool and the night life was great with frequent visits to the theatre, a stroll through Sefton Park on a summer evening and watching the ferry to and fro on the river Mersey in the moon-light.

Sadly, although I had already been allocated a demobilisation number and could now start counting the weeks until my release, it was now early 1945 and I was given fourteen days embarkation leave and told to report back not to Liverpool, but to the transit centre at Southend on Sea, where drafts were arranged for the Far East. No! No! not now I cried, surely King George you have had your Shillings worth out of me (this is a reference to the Shilling coin each volunteer was given on enlisting and called the “Kings shilling”).

Each day at Southend I had to check the notice board to see if my name was on it for a draft. Weeks passed without it appearing and as time was shortening until my demob, I no longer qualified for Far- East duties, so on I go to Sherborne in Dorset this was for drafts to the Middle-East. Whilst waiting for my name to be listed I was given duties in the medical centre and with no experience in this field I was squirting hot water into patients ears to clear the wax and worse still was treating men for scabies.

The patient would be asked to undress completely and stand on a sheet of newspaper while I painted them from head to foot with an old shaving brush using a concoction which looked like wall paper paste but in fact was a mixture of Benzyl and Benzote. I remember painting it on but not cleaning it off. So if there are any octogenarians who survived and still find their shirts sticking to their backs, blame me!

Service ‘Abroad’

Time was getting even shorter now until my demob and still no draft. So off I go to Cardiff the Transit centre for Europe, here at last my name appeared on the list, no one was told of the destination and soon I was sailing down the English channel in convoy of warships in the dead of night and finally dropped anchor we had no idea where until it was announced that the Germans on the Channel Islands had surrendered and we would shortly be landing at St. Peters Port, Guernsey.

We were kept aboard while the Infantry embarked and at the end of the day we were marched off and allocated beds in the castle at the entrance to the port the same beds the Germans had vacated. Our job from now on was to transport the prisoners to work each day and wait there to drive them back to the compound. The Ordinance Corps supervised them and they were made to dismantle the gun positions and underground bunkers that they had built.

After only a few weeks my name appeared on the notice board to return to Carlisle to get released, I could hardly believe the day had finally arrived.

Soon in a few brief moments whilst waiting for the last prisoners to arrive after their days work, I found myself joining in their football game, laughing, playfully tackling them, oblivious to the fact that they were my enemy, wearing a different uniform, speaking a different language, the very men I had longed to fight, the same men in my imagination I had thrust the bayonet in during my training lesson in Hylands Park Chelmsford.

The game of football can be such a leveller of mankind, we forget differences of rank, uniform, colour of skin, nationality, we all become Homo sapiens with the same enthusiastic keenness for a game.

So what began in my childhood days as a bitter enthusiasm to kill, was quickly forgotten, and as I left the island to return to civvy street. I bid them a friendly farewell. One day I hope all the nations of the world will forget their differences and engross themselves in one big game and forget war. So the game that started in the playground ended in a game in no-man’s-land.

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