A DANGEROUS JOURNEY

By 259646. Private. Leonard Trevor ‘Bill’ Bailey.

(POW Camp XIIA and XIB, Number 90363)

2nd Parachute Battalion, The Army Air Corps.

1942 – 1945.

North Africa, Sicily, Italy and Arnhem

I am going to retrace a journey I did more than sixty years ago, I hope you would like to come with me, you may get a smile a laugh or a tear, like I did and [still] do. This story could be told by a million or more young men, like I was at the time, but alas most did not make it home again.

Early in 1941 it was decided to call up nineteen year olds for military service, up to then they were only taking twenty year olds for the Army. I was one of the hundreds in this catalogue. I was told to report to Cardiff, on the 10th April, to the Welsh Regiment for training before being sent to the Royal Army Service Corps to be trained as a clerk.

The train was met by two Corporals, who later turned out to be our instructors. I remember them as being kind and fatherly to us, both old soldiers that knew all the answers to soldiering, “ask us if you need help of any kind”, they said, none of the shouting and bullying you hear about now.

For you that believe in coincidences I must say here I met my first man from home, a man named -------- from Middlewich, Cheshire. I also had my first tip from the instructors [on] how to get through the war, never stand when you can sit, never sit when you can lie down, Oh, and keep all your buttons fastened and call the Quartermaster, Sir!

Here we had arms drill and firing on the range at Barry, I remember I won five shillings on a sweep stake we had on the firing, not a lot you may think, but it was nearly a weeks wage and could buy a good few cakes and tea.

We spent a lot of time being inoculated and vaccinated, I remember some of the boys were quite ill. There was a lot of blistered feet too, first time many had worn boots. The dentists was another place we spent a lot of time at, he did quite a lot of work on one of my front teeth. When he had done it he said that is the first time I have done that since I left college, he was an Army Officer.

The pay was fourteen shillings a week, seventy pence in today’s money. Seven shillings was sent home and seven shillings spent on cake, tea, chocolate, oh and soap and blanko to clean our webbing, [all] from the canteen NAAFI. My mother put the seven shillings in the Post Office bank. On my first small holding I bought when I came out of the army, in 1946, it nearly paid the stamp duty. In case you wonder how I paid for the small holding, my mother gave me a shoe box and it had a thousand pounds in it. She had done war work when my brother and I had joined up.

My oldest brother was in the Navy in peace time, I took the money still in the box to the Solicitors, his eyes nearly fell out of his head and fell off his chair. Most people were not much beloved of banks in those days, most people did not have much to put in them anyway.

At Cardiff I made friends with Dominic Lally from Chester and ‘Ted’ Marsh from Manchester. When we were allowed out after two weeks I remember I went to a grey hound track in Cardiff, which I enjoyed. It was also the first time in a public house to have a drink, which I did not care for. Having been a land lord of a hotel I still have not acquired a taste for it, a shandy will do for me. It is maybe because I never saw it at home. One thing I do remember on the bar in large jars were large arrowroot biscuits, very nice they were too.

I had been in the Home Guard, which it became after being named ‘L.D.V.’, ‘Local Defence Volunteers’, ‘Look, Duck and Vanish’ was the ‘in’ joke. Anyway it helped me with arms drill and parade ground drill, which then came easily. I used to cycle around the country lane’s around Clodford and Warmingham, Cheshire at dawn two or three times a week, then I was off to work. My job was to look if parachutists had landed in the night or if anyone could not identify themselves, as we now all had identity cards. It was usual to be checked by a Commander that you had done your round.

Later, when we were armed, we would go on guard as a platoon and have a road block, we would check identification cards, it was a good job there were not as many cars as there are now, or we would still be there now! About this time we went to live at Barton near Northwich, as my dad had been moved to the works there.

Back to Cardiff. After training we were sent to Slough, with all the men I had trained with, where we were to be trained to work in an M.T.S.D., Motor Transport Stores Depot. We were sent to live in civilian ‘digs’, and as I said I had palled up with Dominic Lally, so we went to live with a Mr and Mrs Race (they had a baby girl at the time, she will be over sixty now).

Another good mate I remember from the time was ‘Ted’ Marsh, a little older than most of us, I think he watched over us. I am sure he did put me right, if I was wrong, a good lesson I have not forgotten.

When we had time off we would go to the Church Canteen in Slough for tea and cakes, and play games. Someone told Mrs Race, “your two soldiers go and drink tea and eat cakes after you have given them dinner”. Mrs Race asked us if we were getting enough to eat, we said yes. They did not know that is what soldiers did to pass the time. I can still see Mrs Race’s Yorkshire puddings, they were the best ever.

I also had my first trip to London while I was at Slough, and another place I will always remember is Burnham Beaches, which was a glorious sight. We used to go swimming in the Thames a lot at Windsor, it was a very good summer that year. We used to go running round the country lanes to keep fit, but most of them have gone under motorways and houses now.

After training we were sent to Morley in Yorkshire to form an M.T.S.D. to go to Africa. We were then sent on Embarkation leave, but when I got back I was told I could not go as I was under twenty. All my pals I had made, and trained with, left for Africa. This was a sad time for me, as they had become like family. There was a lesson here. I learned to try not to get to close to any new mates that I made. I knew I could lose them at any time, but it is hard to do as you eat, sleep, and play with the same people for a long while, and I should say that as soldiers that was what we were there for.

I was sent to a Holding Company at Sheffield, and here we had to scrub all our webbing white, after weeks of green blanco (webbing equipment). One good thing I remember about being there was they gave you next day off, [after a guard duty]. That was because it was twenty four hour guard duty, and me being a ‘B’ [Class], I was first on guard. From here I was sent to Ashchurch near Tewkesbury, Gloucestershire. This was a Spares Depot and also issued new motor bikes, cars, lorries and ambulances. Civilians worked at this Depot, so we had hours like they did, but when they went home we had to do guard duty, fire watch and serve petrol. While I was here we took in impressed vehicles (civilian ones confiscated at the start of the war), and issued new ones. I also remember we sent a large number of ambulances to Russia.

One day an A.T.S. girl came to collect a motor bike, as it was late she had to stay in the camp and sleep in the A.T.S. Barracks. She asked me to show her how the bike worked, and would I be there in the morning to see her off. I said I would. Next day I saw her off with a wave and a ‘good luck’. When she had gone the Sergeant said to me, “do you know who that was?” I said, “no”. He said she is Lady so and so (I forget her name now), and it was her first time on a motor bike. I wonder what happened to her and where she is now.

We used to get a liberty lorry to Cheltenham. I am going to tell you something that happened to me, and I wonder if the same could happen today. I was by myself in the cinema queue, and I spoke to the young lady that was in front of me. When I got inside she gave me her ticket, so I could sit by her. I have long forgotten her name, the only thing I remember was that she worked in her fathers butchers shop. When we came out it was late, so I had to go for my lift back to camp, I never saw her again. I am sure most young soldiers, like I was at the time, would have taken it to mean someone was being kind to a young soldier away from home. Would they today, when it is not safe to walk the streets after dark.

One job I did here while I was at Ashchurch I remember. The Sergeant Major sent for me, and I wondered what I had done wrong. When I got to the C.S.M’s Office he said, “I want you to stay with a prisoner”. He had been brought back ill, and the prisoner said to me that he would not run away again. Anyway, I am glad to say he was still there when I woke up next morning.

We did a few things here I never heard of again whilst I was in the Army.

When we had the Sunday off, the order was you stayed in bed or out of barracks, which was very nice!

Another one was, after we had done Physical Training (P.T.), but before breakfast, we had gunfire?, which was hot cocoa, you could get it at night too.

Another thing was, if you were on guard duty there was always an extra man, and the smartest on parade was called a ‘stick man’, and was dismissed and had the night off.

I had my first Christmas in the Army here, and was lucky enough to get Christmas leave. When I got home my mother asked me where I had been, as the lad across the road, that joined the same time as me had been home a good few times. I think she must have thought I had been in jail or something!

We used to go to the pictures in Tewkesbury quite a lot, now I don’t want to put you off wearing wool, but one thing about going to the pictures, if it is a wet night, all I remember is the smell of wet overcoats. With a picture house full of soldiers in wet overcoats it was not very nice at all.

From here I was sent to Batley, in Yorkshire where we were to form a Spares Depot to go abroad, and while I was there it was cold and snowing. One of the things I remember here was the Church parades. The Vicar had us come early, so we could practice singing through the hymns we were going to sing. I liked hymn singing, but more of a crock now.

We had a march through the town with a band for ‘War Weapons Week’, this was to sell war bonds to help the war effort. A General came to inspect us one day, and he asked me when I expected to go on leave. I said, “I do not know Sir, leave is a privilege”. I think he liked the answer. I thought let us forget about leave and get on with the war, so we could get home for good. Here I made friends with a man that was a professional footballer before he joined up. We used to play a lot of football, the C.O. being an International Referee. He taught me how to keep the ball on the ground, so when I see football on the T.V. and they kick the ball over the cross-bar, it makes me think of him and wonder what happened to him.

We used to go to Dewsbury roller skating, I don’t think I have been since. Both at Batley and Dewsbury we used to get invited to homes, which made a nice change to be able to sit round a fire after some of the buildings we were billeted in. These are the only towns I remember this happening to me, I expect other towns did it too.

One day on Company Orders they were asking for volunteers to join the Parachute Regiment, up until then they had only taken men from Infantry Regiments, not from Corps. I had palled up with a man from North Wales (‘Rhyl’), I forget his name now. I said to him, “on parade, when they have said fall out the non-marchers, sick, lame and lazy, there is only a few of us left to do all the work, lets volunteer for the Parachute Regiment, where everyone is fit”. We both applied to join the Regiment, and it was about this time that my younger brother came to see me on leave from the Navy – it was the last time I would see him until after the war was over.

We were both sent for an interview. The officer asked me why I wanted to join the Regiment. I told him, “how could I face my brothers and tell them I had been in England all through the war”.

One was in the Navy in Singapore working in a hospital, and before that he had been on a Gun Boat on the Yangtze River. He was on his way home from Singapore, after doing his time in the Far East, when he was taken prisoner.

My second oldest brother was in Burma, and I never saw him again, all through the war, until 1946.

My youngest brother was on Russian convoys, in a mine-sweeper.

We were both accepted and sent to Chesterfield for training. Here we were called the 1st Parachute Brigade Details. It was here that I met the man, that I think, was the oldest in the Army (he and his dog), he must have been seventy. He was a C.S.M., but not a parachutist. For about two weeks, while more men joined us, we did as we liked, and I did a lot of sleeping. But, one day we were all rounded up to start the training. We ran everywhere, when we were outside the billet, so we soon started to get fit. And I mean everywhere, even to and from meals.

Here we were shown how to fall and leave a plane through an aperture in the floor, which was a Whitley bomber. If you were unlucky you could hit your nose on the other side of the aperture as you went through, it was called ‘ringing the bell’, and it was not very nice! The parachute was attached to the plane by a static line, so all you had to do was fall through the aperture, and going from each side of the hole in turn. There would be ten parachutists in the plane. It was at Chesterfield I got my first feeling of height, which was on a tower with a parachute open above you, and you were fitted with a harness and sat on the side of the platform. You had to push yourself off, which took a bit of doing in my case. You can now see the same thing at fair-grounds and young people seem to think nothing of it.

One ‘smelly’ thing I remember from Chesterfield (Hardwick Hall). We were taken to a field that had a lot of sheep in it, where we were to learn how to get out of a parachute while being dragged along – this you did very fast, after all that the sheep had left behind them!

I remember two of our men were sent back to their units, because they had been prisoners of war in France, and had escaped back home again. They were both Scottish soldiers.

Our training done at Chesterfield, we were off to R.A.F. Ringway, now Manchester airport. Here we were taken over by the Royal Air Force Instructors, and not forgetting the young women that fed us like lions. You will begin to think I like ice-cream, later I will tell you how it got me a smack round the ear.

There were also some very important young women that packed the parachutes. What a job, knowing that they knew whom had packed the parachute if someone was killed. After much falling and jumping [ground training], we were taken to meet the young women (W.A.A.F’s – Women’s Auxiliary Air Force) that packed the parachutes, and there was much joking, like – “If you put a blanket in, make sure the four corners of it have string tied to it”.

The next step was to be taken to Tatton Park to do two jumps from a balloon. This had a basket hung below it, and had seats round the inside and a hole in the middle to jump through, or fall through in my case! There were five of us in the basket, one being the Instructor. I remember I remarked that was as near to heaven as I had ever been, a poor joke, and no one laughed. The sheep down below looked very small. Anyway, when the Instructor shouted at me to jump I fell out like a bag of potatoes with fright, but once the ‘chute was open it was great, oh I was thankful. It takes a parachute longer to develop when jumping from a balloon, as there is no slipstream, as in jumping from a plane – from a plane it takes no time at all.

When the four of us were down, off we went for a cup of tea and a cake, provided by ladies who gave their time to run a canteen at the dropping field or D.Z. – Dropping Zone. It was here that one of the lads fell over the step. The step was only about two inches high, just a piece of wood across the bottom of the door – he broke his leg just after doing his first parachute jump! It was the first time I was to hear the words ‘R.T.U.’ (Return To Unit), in other words, back to where you came from. Not very nice, it would mean you had failed.

Now for our first flight in a plane, for most of us, and I remember the pilot going to the back of the plane and pulling on something, and saying, “It will do until I get back”. I don’t know if he was trying to scare us or not! Anyway the flight was over the town I had gone to live in – Northwich, Cheshire, a nice pleasant trip. I made my first jump and my rigging lines were twisted, so my head was pushed down. I thought what a way to die, then my ‘chute twisted and I was alright. I had landed near an officer that was watching us, and I said to him, “How was that, Sir?”, he said, “Oh, you’re the man from the Meadow Dairy, very good”. Now all these years later I wonder if he knew that is where I worked before I was called up, he may have done. Or he may have thought it funny a shop assistant should make a parachutists, someone else did – I will tell you about that later in my story.

My second jump was very sad, as one of the boys was killed, his ‘chute failed to develop. I remember the Instructor shouting, “Shake your rigging lines”, he was dead when they got to him. I had jumped as an early number, so I was on the ground and could see all this happen.

After doing our seven jumps we returned to Chesterfield with our [parachute] badge on our arm, and very proud we were too.

Later we had a visit by an Officer, whom I think was from the 2nd Battalion, anyway that was where we were going. We arrived in Bulford Camp, Salisbury Plain in April [August], 1942, where we were told we would learn to use arms which parachute soldiers use, to which was added, “If you don’t know how to use them when the time comes, it will be too bad for you”.

After four weeks we were sent to our company’s, most of the Scottish soldiers were sent to ‘’C’ Company, others to ‘A’ or ‘B’ Company’s. I was sent to HQ-Company with my mate ‘Taffy’. Later we paraded outside the Company H.Q. Office. The first thing the Company Sergeant Major said was, “Is there a man named Bailey here?”. I said, “Yes sir, me”. “I have been waiting for you, where have you been, you can be my clerk”. I said, “Thank you, sir”, but I thought I am back where I started, someone is trying to make me a clerk, again. This happened to my mate, that I had joined with, but he was sent to Battalion H.Q.

It was here that I was to meet Major Ashford [1], an officer loved by all his men, and I know he cared for them too. It was here that I was rechristened by my Army name – ‘Bill’, Major Ashford said Trevor was not a good name for a parachutist, so that was it for five years and a bit, but you had to smile when you know that other officers called him ‘Dicky’, instead of Richard, which was his first name. I always called him, “Major Ashford, sir”. (Here I go again, crying, writing about him after over sixty years, sorry).

I felt proud to meet the men, mostly from ‘C’ Company, that had been on the Bruneval Raid. Thinking back I cannot remember anyone talking about it, just a job to them. There was also an R.A.F. man with them that took the radar to pieces to bring back, and not forgetting the sailors that brought them back home. It must have been the best job the 2nd Battalion did.

As we all came from different Regiments, we all had different cap-badges, the men from Scottish Regiments with their larges badges and some even wearing kilts, but not to parachute in! Arms drill had to be relearned as different Regiments had different timings.

As I said, most Scottish Regiment soldiers went to ‘C’ Company, and I even tried a kilt on, which they dared me to go home on leave in, but I couldn’t do it, they said I could not wear anything under it!

Later we were issued with Army Air Corps badges, and then the red beret, called red, but it was really maroon. Not long after this we got Pegasus shoulder flashes and Parachute Regiment [shoulder flashes], and not forgetting the yellow lanyard.

The next good thing we got was the C47’s, the Douglas Dakota, so we could jump through the door at the back of the plane. It also carried more men, twenty or more. On the first jump from these plane’s two men were killed, one man’s ‘chute came unclipped from the wire that ran along the seats at the side of the plane. He fell into another man’s ‘chute and both were killed from the same plane. I think an officer was killed from the same plane, if I remember right, he was the Transport officer. His parachute failed to develop, this was called a ‘Roman Candle’. [2] At the end of the static line was a clip, not unlike a dog lead, this had hit the edge of the seat and come unclipped. To put this right a hole was put through the clip and we put a large pin through the holes.

One of our training marches was to Exmoor, where we were billeted in bell tents alongside a river. Here we used live ammunition in the training, and no one was killed I am glad to say. It was while I was here that I had a letter to tell me my oldest brother was a prisoner in Japanese hands. Later to drown on a Japanese prison ship, which was sunk by an American submarine.

One thing I remember from Exmoor, was a lad that could tickle trout. I had heard about it, but never seen it done. This lad lay on the bank of the stream with his hand in the water, and just tossed the fish out – we had some very nice meals.

Next we had a training trip to Scotland, someone said it was like the place we were going to in Africa, I don’t think so, having seen both, nowhere is as nice as Scotland, Wales will come close to it.

Another training drop we did was to the New Forest, this was from an Albemarle aircraft. We had a Royal Air Force gunner standing at the gun turret near us, and I could see he had a tear in his eye, he said, ”You have a rotten job”, but I said, “We always get out when we get to where we are going, but you have to get back, so who has the rotten job?” Major Ashford was Number 1 and I was Number 2, I can remember him saying, “Keep you feet out of the hole until I have gone Bill, I know you’re always in a hurry to get out”. As I was an early number I was on the ground first of our stick, and I always unclipped my harness before I landed, so I could get away quick. Some civilians were shouting ‘go away’ to one of the lads, Hutchinson, [3] who was heading for a greenhouse. We had overshot where we should have been dropped and were landing near houses. Hutchinson missed the greenhouse, and landed on his back. As he lay there I went over to him, and he said, “I’m dead Bill!” I said, “Never mind, you’ll be alright, get up so we can go and meet up with the rest of the Company”.

After this drop we met up with the R.A.F. Cooks, they had a Field Cook-house. I can remember having a very good meal, but do not think we did not have very good cooks in the Army. I remember Sergeant Kristener and a Corporal (whose name I forget now), that looked after us very well. The reason I am telling you this, is I want you to understand about the comradeship – our cooks were from the Army Catering Corps, so they had not been trained as paratroops, but these two men came with us to North Africa. Later, when we went to Arnhem, this Corporal came with us, even though he had never done a jump or been trained! [4]

One day I was walking down to the Officers Mess, when a voice behind me said, “There is a soldier that knows his way about”. I turned round and it was the Padre, I said, “Hello, sir”, and he replied, “I am new here”, and I told him to follow me and I showed him where his billet was. That is how I met another good officer, loved and liked by us all.

In October 1942, I travelled up to Scotland with Major Ashford, as I had now become his batman, and had moved to ‘A’ Company. Here we boarded the liner Strathmoor, and the officers job was to be the Baggage Master, he was to see that our kit and stores were loaded, so that if we needed them in a hurry in Algiers we could get the stores we needed first and fast. We were about a week on that liner before any troops came, so I had good run round the ship and found my way about.

On the voyage lost another of our boys, he died after a sports boxing match, and was buried at sea. It was the first time I had seen anything like this take place, it was very sad as you would expect. [5]

When we got out into the Atlantic Ocean I remember the little Destroyers running round us like sheep dogs, looking after us – the size of the waves that were going over them, they nearly went out of sight.

This made me wonder how my younger brother was getting on, as he was on a much smaller ship – a mine-sweeper, Northern Spray, which was an old fishing trawler turned into a mine-sweeper. He was on the Russian convoys, and he once told me they went part of the way to Russia, then came back with a convoy returning from Russia.

During this voyage I had my 21st birthday. I expect there were a lot of birthdays on this convoy, there were a lot of ships, and I’m glad to say – none were lost. There was very good canteen on the liner, the queue was always very long and I remember we could buy chocolate, cigarettes, and we bought a lot of tinned fruit, which went down very well.

As we passed through the Straights of Gibraltar, the coast line to our right, ‘starboard side’, was lit up like Blackpool illuminations, someone said it was Tangiers, it was a beautiful sight after the dark black out at home.

One day I had to go down to the lowest part of the ship, where all the maps were kept. This was the first time I could feel the liner moving up and down, I felt quite ill, but I was soon alright, once I got back on deck.

I had told Major Ashford how the men were packed in below decks, he came to have a look, and he was shocked to see men in hammocks, some sleeping on tables, some sleeping on the deck, and a nasty smell from all the bodies. Even the officers were two or three to a cabin.

Major Ashford said to me, “Bill, there is one cabin on this ship with no one in it, you can have it if you like”. So, I went back to my mates and told them, “What should I do”, I said. They said get there fast. So, that is how only a batman had a cabin all to himself on the Strathmoor, while officers all around had to share – and I got a cup of tea in the mornings!

Major Ashford did sometimes ask me whom was the O.C. of ‘A’ Company, and I would say its not me, to which he would reply, “I am beginning to wonder!”

We landed in Algiers without any trouble, and we then moved to a small town outside Algiers. Here Major Ashford, Capt. Stark and us two batmen had a billet in a little school, whilst the rest of the battalion were in a large college.

One day we had a football match against a local side, which we lost, not good when you consider they had bare feet and we had army boots on.

At about this time Lieutenant Brayley acquired a monkey – it was later wounded in an air raid and was taken on sick parade every morning until it was better! Captain Gordon was the Medical Officer that looked after him. On Sundays we had Church Parades, and all the time that the Padre was talking and us singing the monkey sat in a tree and made more noise than we did, this appeared to be very funny at the time – must have been a Muslim monkey! He was a ‘rum one’, and always up to tricks, one of them was to put his paw in the big pocket we had on our trousers to see if we had anything for him to eat inside it.

While we were in this location we had a few days off in Algiers, which was a large city, with lots of big stores and restaurants, but a few miles away the locals were living in mud huts.

Our next move was to Maison Blanche aerodrome to prepare for a raid on a place called Oudna in Tunisia. It was while we were here, sorting our kit and ammunition out and filling the containers (that were put in racks under the plane and were released at the same time as we were dropped) that the Padre came along to see how we were, and I said to him, “I think you should have a few of these Sir”, he said alright then, and I gave him three Mills bombs!

The plane I was in was the last to leave, I don’t think the American pilot was too keen to go, anyway he turned back when we were over the Atlas Mountains, and I missed the raid. After the raid I asked about the Padre, but they said the last time they saw him he was standing on a tank and dropping a bomb inside. [6]

When the raid was over those that had been left behind made a train journey to Medjez-el-Bab, and here we re-joined the battalion. From here we moved to quite a lot of places along the 1st Army front line. I think the Germans must have thought there were thousands of Parachute Troops in North Africa, not just the three battalions, plus the Royal Engineers, and the Medical Corps, which had their own parachute sections.

Anyway I will tell you about the ones I remember best, although they may not be in the order that they happened.

We moved to a place that we later called ‘Cork Wood’, the trees were cork and the bark was very thick cork. Here the Lincolnshire Regiment should have guided us to our positions, but we got lost going up the hill, so we made do with where we were, this was just our section – ten of us. We slept soundly all night, well I did – I could sleep anywhere! We were awakened by gun fire in the morning, so we got our kit together and found we were only a few yards from where we should have been.

It does not make me feel good to tell you what happened next, quite sad really. I took up a position behind a tree, so I could look down the slope of the hill. The troops in front of us had not dug any foxholes, that is what we called slit-trenches, just for two men, it was where you lived and fought from, and died as the case maybe. I saw a German soldier quite far away, and I fired at him, and was surprised to see him put his hand to his chest and drop down. It was like a film in slow motion, and you think, “what bad acting”. I then did something silly, or should I say daft, I jumped up and shouted, “its like a cowboy and Indian film”, but a machine gun I had not seen opened fire and cut the cork tree off above my head. It was then that Major Ashford shouted at me to get out of there, which I did in a hurry, with bullets following my heels. The attack was driven off, so we started to dig our fox-holes, which I remember was hard going.

Later in the day we had an air-raid by dive-bombers. By this time our fox-hole was only about a foot deep, but my mate dived in with me on top of him. I turned my head and could see a bomb leave the plane, and it fell in the wood behind us, the explosion covering our backs with soil. When it was over my mate had lost a foot, his leg had been over the side of the hole. One man was killed and several wounded. Much later one of the wounded came back, and I asked him what he was looking for, he said his hand, and I said what do you want that for, he said there is a ring on one of the fingers! I cannot remember if he found it. I saw him a few years ago at Heathrow Airport, where he worked. I recognized him as a man I had been in the Army with, but not the man from cork wood, until he showed me his artificial hand – I forgot to ask if he found his ring.

It was here that I was to find out that the British Army still had mules, and they were used to bring up rations and stores to us. Sad to say that one day several were killed while bringing up some mortar bombs to us. Corporal Priestley was the ‘driver’ of the mules, later he became our Section Corporal. The mules were killed by shell fire, which the Germans sent over our heads, how they saw them I have often wondered. Some days later some of us had to go and take the mortar bombs off the dead mules, not a very nice job I can tell you.

A few days later we had another attack, this time we took some prisoners, with them was a German officer, who said, “With two hundred men like these I could fight the world!” I thought, “Is he bragging or praising us?” He said they had attacked [another unit] a while ago and took some prisoners, but they were the Lincolnshire and Leicestershire Regiment’s.

The prisoners were from the Afrika Korps, and they had summer uniforms on, but underneath they had British uniforms on – I said, “You will be shot as Spies”, they replied, “No, we were that cold we had to wear them, as our winter uniforms had not come”. Anyway, I am sure nothing happened to them, it was only me with my sense of humour.

A few days later German planes dropped supplies, but missed where they should have been and dropped between us and the Germans. When I first saw the parachutes open I thought they were parachutists, I had a funny feeling in my stomach, and I thought, ‘now you know how it must feel when we drop behind the lines for the people there’. A patrol was sent out at night to see if we could get anything useful to us. When they got near to the parachutes they could hear a tearing sound, as if someone was tearing the parachutes, then as the got nearer still they could see it was a man named Sutton, one of our own! [7] He was a good fellow, but a bit of a rum one, a good man to have on your side, he could get anything, he was a right loveable character.

The next day the Germans attacked again and I heard words I hoped I would never hear – “Fix bayonets!” – mind you they were already fixed! The shout was given by the Sergeant major in his loud Scottish voice, I said to my mate, “Its getting dangerous again, I wish I had stayed at home with my Mum!” You have to joke sometimes or else you never know what might happen. Then the command, “Charge”, and we ran a short distance, but never found anyone. I think the voice [of our Sergeant major] had frightened them, it did me!

In one of these attacks Sergeant Lyoness [8] had a bullet go through his steel helmet. (You may have heard how a Bren gun was fired from the hip, many times, well we had a Boyes anti-tank rifle which looked a very ungainly thing, I never heard of it stopping a tank, only if you were brave enough to get near enough to kill the driver. Sergeant Lyoness was Irish, and he was our Section Commander, and we would do anything for him, he was such a good soldier. Like his name he was as brave as a Lion). He shouted, “You can’t do that”, and picked up the Boyes anti-tank rifle and shot the German that had put the hole through his helmet!

A few days later we had to leave our positions as they were doing what they called ‘straightening the line’. What it really meant was the Germans had broken through somewhere, so we had to retreat. We withdrew along a river, now the Germans were very good with mortars, they would put a bomb to the right, then one to the left and the next one in the middle, which in our case was the river. Each time this happened we would hug the bank for cover. I can remember one time I tried to tell the youth in front of me to get up, but he was dead, so I took his rifle and left him. Several men were killed and more wounded, but even amongst all this funny things happened. We got to a part of the river which was quite deep and a man named Miller [9], who was about six feet tall, walked through and it only came up to his chest. He was followed by a man whose name, I think, was Watkins [10] from Devon (he had a real Devonshire accent), he walked through the water and only the end of his rifle was showing. When he came out I said, “Why did you do that?”, and he said, “It came up to Dusty’s chest, so I thought it would come up to mine”. He was only five foot tall! Minutes earlier I had been near to tears, now I was laughing, this seemed to happen often.

Major. Ashford had gone, so we had a Major. Lane [11], and I was now his batman. He had very bad trench feet and could hardly walk, and he had been sent to Hospital just before we withdrew down the river. I will tell you about him later and what happened when we met up again. It was here that I did something I will be reminded of for a long time after, by Mr. Brayley [12]. I was that wet I dived in the river. Ever after if we were doing any training Lieut. Brayley would say – “and Bailey will now stop for a swim!”

When we got to the place we were to take up new positions, which I think was a small railway station. Mr. Brayley (later to be Lord Brayley after the war), shouted for me to come [over to him], and he took me to a building which had uniforms in and we both got fixed up with dry clothes. This officer used to rag me a lot, mostly about what a rotten batman I was to major. Ashford. He could have said not a very good soldier, but he didn’t, his batman had won a Military Medal, so he was a good soldier.

About Major Lane. I met up with him again, after Major Ashford was killed, to be his batman again. He said to me that it was a good job he had gone to the Hospital as he would never have made it down the river, and I told him that I knew he wouldn’t. He said, “What would you have done?”, and I said, “Left you – no good two of us being taken prisoner!” He just gave a little smile. He was another good officer, that we all liked.

The next move was to a cross roads, where there was a little brick building and we made it Company HQ and Cookhouse. It was here I saw my first Italian soldiers. I was at ‘Stand To’ in the morning with Mr. Brayley’s batman outside the building. We always ‘stood to’ at first light in the morning, and at last light in the evening. When I looked up the road I could see all these men in a blue type uniform coming down the road. I said to my mate that I thought we were in the front line here, he said we are, to which I replied, “Look at all these Royal Air Force men coming down the road”, and he replied that they were Italians that our patrol had rounded up.

We had an officer called Captain. Timothy [13], he was also a really nice man, always spoke to you when he saw you. I think the word for him today would be ‘laid back’. However, the day they rounded up the Italians I saw him do something that I have never forgotten. An Italian Officer was amongst the prisoners said, “I want to go to America, not England”, at which Mr. Timothy gave him a slap. I felt sorry for the Italian – I wonder why we remember things like this, and forget others?

At a nearby farm, which was owned by French people, we used to go and try to talk to them. We would write words down, and they would write the same word in French, but sometimes they would laugh and nudge each other. I thought I had better stop as I was saying the wrong words. Anyway, it was nice, as we used to get cake, coffee and bread. This was very nice, as we had not seen bread for a very long while, only biscuits. These biscuits were called Breeze Blackpool, something like a water biscuit and a cream cracker, but much harder. The cooks used to put them in the stew to soften them, but they still floated to the top.

It was around here that the Arabs began to call us “Barsuits”, or a name that sounded like that, it was because our jumping jackets had a [tail] piece that hung down at the back which should have been between our legs and be fastened at the front, but it nearly always hung down. So, they called us “men with tails”, ‘Barsuits!’

From this location we went to a rest camp, so we could have hot showers and get cleaned up, to look like soldiers again. I met another man from home here, his name was Moore [14], from Lostock Graham, Cheshire, and he brought us fresh water in a tanker.

I remember we went to a French farm on the front line, and here one of my jobs was to look after two soldiers who were from the French Foreign Legion. They had come to work for us, but they would not eat bacon, and the only other food I could get them was sardines, which they ate a lot of whilst I looked after them, and they seemed quite happy.

In the corner of the field where we had our foxholes there were some Arab huts. We used to go to them and take them tins of food and they would make us pancakes, which they made from wheat. They ground and baked the pancakes on hot stones and put eggs on them which made a nice change [to our rations]. One day two of the huts caught fire and they did not attempt to put the fire out. They waited until it was out, then salvaged what they could and built two more huts.

At the rest camp one of the platoons was billeted in a brick building. They were cleaning Mills bombs when one began to smoke. The man that held it tried to run outside with it, but several men were sitting on the step doing their cleaning, and the man with the bomb fell over and several men were killed.

One thing that I forgot. Major Ashford and Captain Moore and us two batmen made a trip to Algiers by pickup car. The two Officers were going to a meeting at Brigade H.Q. This was quite a long trip and I remember miles of open country, with little villages, which nearly all had a notice with, “Typhus, keep out”. We made a stop, at one point, to brew up, and it was under a eucalyptus tree. The smell of which always brings back that memory.

On the way we had a little trouble with the car, but we made it as far as Constantine, to a big Citroen garage, which had been taken over by the Army. A French soldier [stationed there] took us to his home for the night. The next day we had a look round the City, and we met two little boys. One had a wooden rifle, and they were doing arms drill, one doing the drill and the other giving the orders – in a Scottish accent! Someone had spent a lot of time teaching these two little boys. This is the kind of thing British soldiers do, always kind to children.

We also found a nice cake shop, which also made a good cup of tea. We liked our tea in the British Army – when in doubt, brew-up, was the word. I have never met anyone that liked tea more than Major Ashford. I asked him one day, “Do you think I could have a badge made like a jug to put on my shoulder?”, “Why not”, he said, “you seem to do as you like anyway!”

We arrived in Algiers safe and sound, but here I have a complete blank of how we got back to the battalion. I cannot recall the trip at all, and I have tried, the only answer I can think of was something terrible must have happened. [The following probably accounts for it.]

It was about this time that I had to go into a casualty Clearing Station as I had very bad ear ache. So, I was away for a few days whilst I had some treatment. When I got back I was told Major Ashford and Captain Moore had been killed. When I heard this I lay at the bottom of my foxhole and had a good cry, it still brings tears to my eyes as I write this. You may think this strange, but I can truthfully say that our Officers were loved by us all, and respected too. The two ooficers were killed when a Bren Gun Carrier [one of three] hit a mine. Colonel Frost, Sergeant Fisher [15] and the other drivers were alright and not hurt. Back to my foxhole, where I still lay at the bottom, where I felt that my world had fallen and I did not care what happened to me. An officer came and knelt by my foxhole and looked down at me, he asked me if I would be his batman, and I said, “”I’m not a very good one, my officer has been killed”. He told me I’d be alright, I forget his name now, he wasn’t with us for very long.

The next move was to retake Cork Wood. We attacked under a creeping barrage, and we had to cross a small river and a railway line. As we crossed the railway line a machine gun opened up on fixed lines. Because of the darkness before we set off the officer said to me to count the men across each obstacle, which I did. The officer then asked me to get the Wireless Section, but I knew they had not crossed either obstacle, so I went back and rounded them up and took them across the river and the railway line. Later a soldier told me that if they had known it was me they would not have come – he didn’t realise that I was only a batman!

The machine gun was still firing, so the officer said to me, “Stop there”, and he ran up the hill and came back with the soldier that had been firing the gun. He had him by the scruff of the neck like a naughty little school boy, and told me to look after him. The [German] soldier was shaking like a leaf, he said he had been on the Russian front, but never under [artillery] fire like that. I then did something I know I should not have done – I put a gas cape over him and gave him a cigarette. I always had my ration of cigarettes to give to the wounded, prisoners and my mates if they had none. I did not smoke myself, but I think it helped when people were in distress.

We moved off without much trouble, taking a few prisoners that had been left behind to hold us up, not much fight in them – cold and hungry I expect. My officer came to me and told me he had to leave to go to another battalion, as a Commanding Officer had been killed, I never saw him again.

I recall seeing a German Officer that had been killed (I have said earlier about how small things can be remembered as clear as day, yet other things you cannot remember) and he had a hole right in the middle of his forehead. I often wonder if he killed himself. He had a beautiful pair of boots on, and my leather laces were not too good, so I took the ones out of his boots, and someone said why did you not take his boots. I said that I was not going to wear someone else’s boots – he may have bad feet!

As we walked along a bullet passed over my head, so I fired a shot at where it had come from and saw a German soldier fall out of a tree and limp away. We landed up back at our old foxholes, it was like coming home.

It was here I remember the Sergeant Major doing a count of the men from ‘A’ Company, that had come on the Strathmoor – twenty six out of one hundred and thirty or so. Also, I think only Captain Timothy and Captain Gordon were left (while I have been writing this I have heard that both these officers have died a short while ago), at one time we were A, B, C and HQ Platoons instead of Company’s. When we went to attack Cork Wood we were only a large Platoon, and that is how I was able to count the men across the river and line and get to the front again, with the officer.

Before we left Cork Wood we had buried some dead Germans and a few of our own men, we had also put the mortar bombs off the mules in the graves. We could see the Germans had looked in the graves, but they had not found the mortar bombs, which was a good job.

We buried the German that had shot a hole in Sergeant Lyoness’s helmet, he was the biggest man I have ever seen – must have been more than seven feet tall. When we looked at his papers I am sorry to say he was married and had two little girls.

Our last front line was at Mateur, which was a hill that we had our positions on, it also had a number, but I forget that now, it may have been called Long Stop Hill. Here we had to dig-in, then the Americans would take over from us, so they could do the last fighting before Tunisia fell into our hands. They said it would be better politically, anyway they were welcome to it.

But, here again sadness and laughter. There was a bad smell around our position, so we had a look round to see what it was. I found a pile of bones and I shouted to my mate, “Its over here, it’s a dead dog”. He came over and said, “Bill, that’s not a dead dog, it’s a soldier”. We looked around and found some income tax papers with a mans name on them. It was a Sergeant Major from the Durham Light Infantry. They had retreated when we went down the river. I thought that is some tax the tax man won’t be getting!

We looked around some more, and found more bones, when the Durham Light Infantry had retreated they had left their dead behind. What used to happen was the Arabs would take the clothes off the dead soldiers and then wild dogs would eat the flesh. May Arabs were caught wearing uniforms and were taken away by the Military Police.

It was here that we did some more fishing, not with rod and line, but with Mills bombs. The fish came to the surface stunned, nice meals again.

Now back to the foxholes, you will begin to think we dug up most of North Africa – well we did, most of it!

When we were digging our foxhole the going was very good, I recall there were a lot of bricks coming out of the hole, must have been a well or a tomb, anyway my mate and I kept going until we were well overhead. I knew the Officer would come round to see and inspect our foxholes. I could hear him coming, “Get some more out Hutchinson,[3] get some more out Vardy”[16], going through the platoon, until he got to us, he then said, “Get some put back in Bailey!” I could see a smile on his face as he left us – he knew we were having a joke.

The Americas never came and took over from us, they passed us by.

I have just thought of a place we were at, it was up some hills somewhere, and we spent Christmas day up there. I remember we stood to in the morning, and it was very misty and cold. I have mentioned Mr. Brayley before – on Christmas Day he came to me and after “ragging” me, as usual, he gave me a bar chocolate and a piece of cake – that was my Christmas presents! After the war he became Lord Brayley.

We left by lorry and train back to Algiers. On the journey an ammunition train was going up the line and I saw a soldier sitting on one of the wagons. He saw me and gave a big wave and shouted my name, I gave him a wave back. He was a lad I went to school with, ‘Tommy’ Thomson from Middlewich, Cheshire. You may think why do I keep telling you of men I have met from home, well it gave you a nice feeling, like getting a letter from home.

At Algiers we went to a wine making place, a few miles outside the town, where we were billeted over the wine vats. Here we met up with the monkey again, but I am sorry to say that he ran up a pole that carried the electricity and was killed. It was here that they told us the tale of when they cleaned one of the vats out they found a dead German soldier, must have been the happiest to die in Africa! We stopped here for a while to get cleaned up and look like soldiers again.

We then moved somewhere nearer to Morocco, all I can remember about the place was that we had a good few sand storms, which always seemed to ‘blow-up’ at meal times and would carry our bivouacs away and fill everything with sand. We left there by plane to fly to Sousse, where we used to sleep under the olive trees with just a mosquito net, but we also had nice sleeping bags now. The flight to Sousse was terrible, we flew over the Atlas Mountains, it was very rough and I felt quite ill.

At Sousse we did more training, and also managed some swimming, off the coast at Sousse and Tunis. I remember being surprised how many men could not swim – where I came from most boys could swim, having learned in the River Dane or the canal. It was here we met up with the PIAT gun for the first time, and we all had a shot at an old tank, and were quite surprised how it made a neat little hole in the tank, much better than the Boys Anti-Tank Rifle – that must be in a museum somewhere!

I had stopped being a batman as Major Lane had left us, and we had a new Company Commander, Major Lonsdale.

I was put on a Bren gun with Corporal Coppard,[17] who was a grave digger before he joined up. We had some nice foxholes when we were training, which he dug, as I had said to him that he had better keep his hand in! I am sorry to say he was killed in Sicily.

We went to Sicily and dropped on Catania plain. On the flight the anti-aircraft guns were firing at us, and you could see the tracer bullets coming up, I said, “Never mind, there’s not many”, until someone told me that there were ten others in between each red tracer bullet! “It’s getting dangerous again”, I said, “I wish I’d stayed at home with my Mum!” Ron Holt [18] said, “That’s nothing to laugh at, anyway your chutes on upside down, so you will be going up instead of down!” This was the kind of talk that was always going on, someone was always making a joke of anything.

We landed in the right place, but a lot did not. I was making my way to the forming up place when we were fired on, and I felt a blow to my side, I said to the soldier that was with me, “Stop pushing”, and he replied, “I’m not”. We fired at where the shots had come from and saw a German soldier fall in a fire. The field had hay stacks on rocks all over it, and they were setting them alight, that is what he had fallen into.

My side was beginning to hurt and I was having to lean over to my left, I said to the young soldier that had stayed with me to put his hand up my jumping jacket to see what he could feel. He said, “I can put my finger into a hole, but cannot see any blood”. It was then that this young soldier said to me, “Don’t die and leave me Bill”. I said, “I dare not die, my mother would kill me!” It was his first time in action so you can guess how he felt. His name was Needham? from Manchester.

We heard gliders land near us - what time did they say the moon would come up – 11.30 hours – we will wait until to make sure they are British, there is not long to wait. German paratroops had been landing on the same field as us. When we knew they were British we went over to them, and they told us there was a Regimental aid Post set up in a farm building near to us. So, we went over and I was looked after by our own M.O. Captain Gordon, it was full of wounded men. All this had taken place in the dark. I saw a sad thing happen right outside the Aid Post, one of our Corporals was coming in with a wounded man on his back and was killed by a sniper right at the door. A German officer came in at night to ask if any of the wounded could walk, Captain Gordon said no, and the German officer said he would be back for us in the morning. But, next morning we were awakened by the machine guns of the Cheshire Regiment, the biggest noise I have heard, they had come to relieve us.

My friend McWilliam,[19] a Scot, was killed, also Cpl Coppard, whom I was on the Bren gun with.

The next day I was taken to Syracuse, where we were seen by a Doctor ready to be sent on a hospital ship, which was called the Derbyshire – someone said all the Army Hospital ships were called ‘shire’, such as Derbyshire, Lancashire or Cheshire. The night before there had been an air raid and a Hospital ship had been sunk in the harbor – you could still see the masts sticking out of the water. We sailed with all our lights on, which was a graceful sight, all alone with no one to guard us. We were given a bag of toiletries, pajama’s, shaving kit, soap and chocolate. I remember once I had a parcel with socks, gloves, scarf and balaclava, all knitted by people back home, but you never knew the person that had done the work. The only thing of note on that voyage was that there were two German prisoners that needed blood transfusions, but they would not have “pig-dog” blood put in them - that’s what they called us – they both died the next day.

We landed at Tripoli where we were sorted out, and I found myself with the German prisoners, because the 8th Army had not seen parachute troops and thought we were German as well, but it was soon sorted out.

We were then sent to an Italian built hospital, and when I walked into the ward a Captain from the Army Nursing Yeomanry said, “What’s up with you, then?”, as if I had the flu. I said, “I have a bullet in my back” – I’ve never been washed and into bed so quick! This all turned out alright in the end, as I was up and about again in no time. Usually at about 9 o’clock at night this same nurse would come to my bed and say if I went to the Office I would find a dinner there, which was soon ‘tucked into’. She used to bring them from the Officers Mess every night whilst I was there.

In the wards they had Italian prisoners that were Red Cross, and one day one of them came to show me my x-ray. He said, “That is your heart, and that is the bullet”. I said, “No it is not”, and he said yes it is – “it cannot be “, I said, “my heart was in my mouth at the time!” By the look on his face he didn’t get the joke!

When I was being carried back to my ward I opened my eyes and I remember the sun shining on me, and someone said here is your bullet, and put it in my hand – and another little tear came into my eyes. The hospital wards were separate buildings with the operating theatre being in the middle – to get from one to the other you had to go outside.

One day a tall smart man came into the ward, he wore K.D. slacks and an Officers pullover, but he had no badges of rank. He came over to me and sat on my bed we had a chat about how I was getting on. When he had gone a man in a bed across from me, also a parachutist from the same battalion as me, asked me if I knew the man that had been talking to me, I said no. He said you were talking to him as if he was a mate of yours – he’s our Brigadier!

I remember one sad day I had whilst at the hospital, when I was up and about again. I was sent to one of the wards to have a word with some of the wounded and to tidy up their lockers, and I talked to a man who looked as if he was cut in two by the state of his wound, but we could still talk to each other. Next day I went to see him again, but he had died in the night, and I didn’t know his name or even where he came from.

From here I was sent to a Holding Company, and in the next bed to me was a Royal Marine Commando. I was a man whom I used to live next door, but one to, when I was a school boy. His name was Tom Challener from Middlewich, Cheshire.

They now rounded up all the parachute troops that were fit, and we were loaded onto a lorry (a troop carrier Q.L. type) and sent on our way to Sousse. Somewhere near Gabes we had a stop to brew up, and about two hundred yards away from the road there was a pomegranate orchard, so we decided to try some. An old Arab came at us with the largest barreled shot-gun I have ever seen, so we took to our heels, like naughty little school boys – it was very funny to see us ten parachute troops running away – dead brave we were!

Another sight that sticks in my minds eye is a cemetery with nearly a battalion of Guardsmen and their Officers in it. The road was littered with burned out tanks and vehicles. These battles had been fought along the coast road route that we were taking to Sousse.

We landed up back at the very olive grove that we had been at before we left for Sicily.

After plenty of rest and swimming off the coast near Tunis, our numbers were made up again for all the lads we had lost – oh, and we ate lots of watermelon, as the drinking water was not that good - we were then bussed to Bizerta, where we boarded a ship for Italy. It was a fast little ship, so we did not have an escort. Ron Holt did his throwing out act, and we had a platoon ‘fight’ on a physical training mat, you had to see who could last the longest on the mat. I remember a man named Fishwick [20] was the leader of this ‘game’, and he used to play rugby for St Helen’s. After the war he played for Warrington. I remember him as a very kind man, always had time for a word with you, very laid back as they say now. The sailors were glad to be rid of us, as they thought we may sink their ship.

Just before we landed at Taranto the crew picked a sailor out of the water that had been drowned [possible from HMS Abdiel], we went back out to sea and had a burial at sea. When we returned to Taranto harbor you could see the masts of some of the Italian fleet sticking out of the water that had been scuttled by the Italians. [This is not quite right, they are probably the wrecks of the Italian fleet sunk by the attack in 1941].

We landed without any trouble, and after carrying out a few patrols, in which we never saw any enemy, we went back to a barracks near Taranto.

There were two barracks alongside each other, with a high wall round each. One night we had been to an Italians house, that we had made friends with, and when we came to go back we were a little bit drunk, and we went into the wrong barrack block. I went to where my bed was, but there was a black American in it, don’t think I am bragging, but we jumped over that eight foot high wall in one go!

We had a day out in Taranto and we went into a big store that sold ice-cream. We were gathered round a young lady that was serving us, when I thought it was my turn I touched her on the shoulder, as she had her back to me. She swung round and gave me a slap right across my ear, and of course my pals thought it was great joke. I can still hear a broad Yorkshire voice saying, “Tha never learns Bailey!” that was Vardy. We had heard how the Germans had not treated the Italians very well. I thought that is one lady that would not be treated wrongly.

One day we were manning a road block, when I saw my first pizza. It was the largest I have ever seen, it must have been three feet across and two inches thick. I can still see the tomatoes on the top! It was made by some Italian ladies that lived nearby, and their children brought it over to us, it was very good indeed.

We moved to Barletta where we were billeted in a school, here we had more ice-cream, there were all sorts of colours and flavours, and I thought that even in wartime these Italians can still make good ice-cream. It was from here that Captain Timothy went with some men and did a drop to help British prisoners of war that had been left in the camps and were also roaming the countryside.

The Italians had packed in the war by now, I think they were glad to. Our next move was to Bari, where we boarded a landing craft and sailed up the Adriatic Sea. It was very rough, even the sailors were sea-sick. I can still see Vardy and Hutchinson eating great big bacon sandwiches, nothing seemed to upset those two. Meanwhile, I laid on the deck wishing it would get torpedoed, I felt that ill. I hoped there would be no Germans when we landed, and glad to say there were none. The reason that it felt so rough was that these little ‘ships’ had flat bottoms, so they could run up the beach and land us dry, but they went over the waves instead of through them.

While we were stationed in Italy I saw [the entertainer] Wee Georgey Wood, in a nice theatre in the town [Barletta]. While I had been