Sword Beach to Bremen., A Veterans tale. Sapper

Friedrich :

We are honored as well to have your Opa aboard our forums.

Herr HuH I welcome you here ! I can safely say we as the younger generation would enjoy hearing your stories of your war-time experiences. And although painful it would be of great benefit to hear what has happened in the past so that it may not be repeated again. As Sapper has mentioned the memories are alive as they were just yesterday and so it must be for you and many of your generation that fought on "both" sides of the conflict. Take your time here and review all the posts as you feel comfortable and please give us your thoughts on any....Sapper as well please !

-- Mit den besten Grüßen --

Erich

 

Hello Gottfried. Fellow Veteran
I hope I have got the name right? If I may, I would like to take time in answering you message, for heavens sake we must have a lot in common, and any answer I send you, must recall those days when we were all young, and all the World belonged to us.
Sapper
I must get on with my shower or I will be here all night!

 

Welcome to the forums Herr Oberstleutnant! VERY glad to have you here. I and we all here will greatly look forward to whatever stories you can tell us.

Im greatful that Sapper now has someone here he can really relate to. I and we all greatly enjoy his stories very very much, and we are looking forward to hearing yours as well.

Thank you for visiting. Im greatful that Friedrich is a member here and is apparently well versed in history and the arts. He does contribute some great material on these forums.

He has told us of your friendship with General Fedor von Bock, that is also we would like to hear anything about. Friedrich tells me that you have his Iron Cross 2nd class, that is also a nice thing to have as something to remember him by.

 

Now Squeaky clean. Let me start this bit of history, The first part, is my own recall, that will be followed later by accounts from Captain Edwards and others. For their account is probably better written than mine.

The Chateau de la Londe.
Murder, Sheer Bloody Murder.

On the night of June 22nd the South Lancashire regiment with two sections of 3 Platoon, 246 Field Company R.E. attacked the Chateau without a preparatory artillery barrage and “walked in” and took the Chateau. But something went very wrong after that, for some reason that has never been explained, the anti-tank guns were not brought up to support our troops. At about 4.30 am the next morning the Germans counter attacked with tanks and drove our infantry out, without anti-tank guns there was no defence against armour.

We later found out that the Germans had been called over the coals for the disgraceful loss of the Chateau and that they would have to “Fight to the death” to regain it. They then set about strengthening their defenses, ready for another attack. First they were reinforced by a company of tanks about 30 to 40 strong, plus 5 Company of 192 Panzer Grenadiers and a Platoon of Sappers backed up by the H.Q. Company of 22 Panzer Regiment, fighting as infantry, A force of considerable strength!

Our intelligence did not know about these enemy reinforcements, the weather had been very bad with thunderstorms that did not allow for good aerial reconnaissance, at the same time our patrols had not managed to get close enough to check on the enemy strength.

There then followed operation, “Mitten” the retaking of the Chateau, this operation was to help the Canadians who were preparing to make a “Pincer movement” round Caen. The attack opened with the Divisional artillery laying down a barrage that our troops had to follow up close behind!

On the evening of June the 27th,the South Lancashires led the 8th Brigade and attacked first, not knowing of the superior enemy strength, they were slaughtered, every avenue was covered with tremendous enemy fire power. They were beaten back, but managed to hold on to the wood at La Londe. The Suffolk and East Yorkshires Regiments, with 2 Platoon of 246 Field Company R.E. (mine) in support, were then thrown in to the battle, cold food was brought to them at about 1 to 2 am and they attacked at 4 am.

The barrage came down and what followed was a terrifying experience. An experience so bad, that those who were there will remember it to their graves. It is beyond my feeble attempt at description! The battle was confused and violent. To give an example, an officer of the Suffolk’s trying to consolidate his defence was harried by a Spandau, seeing two tanks in the half light, he asked one of them for fire support on to the Spandau position. A head appeared from the turret and these two looked at each other in silence. The gun began to swing round, the British officer ran for his life and just managed to reach a slit trench before the German tank fired at him. Lieutenant Woodward knocked out one with a PIAT, the other was knocked out by Private Crick, who was killed immediately by shell fire. The other accounts will follow later.
Comment?
Sapper

 

Dear sir Gottfried von Hammerstein und Hartmann,

I salute You!

Yours truly

Kai-Petri Hänninen
Second lieutenant( reserve )
Finnish army
Internal medicine Doctor of Medicine
Turku, Finland

 

Thank you all! Be sure I will let my Opa know all your comments. He had a smile in his face when he was reading this history of a veteran like him. And I will persuade him to learn to use better the computer so he can discuss many things with all of you, let's remember all what he lived and beside, he is a militaria and guns expert.

 

Hello again. What follows is my old friends description Of the Bloodiest square mile.
There is too much to add at one go so I have split it up into about three sessions. This, as it unravels will surely convey the atmosphere of war for even today it is terrifying.

The Battle For The Chateau
De la Londe, June 28th 1944
Sappers friend. Richard Harris RH
We moved up on the afternoon of the 24th of June. The plan, though we only vaguely understood it at the time, was that the S. Lancs should recapture the Chateau and the E. Yorks and Suffolks would follow through this objective to capture the villages of Epron and La Bijude, It all sounded quite simple and straightforward, for the Lancs had taken possession of the Chateau easily enough on the first occasion, but had had the bad luck to be counter-attacked with tanks before they could get their A/T defences into position.

Intelligence thought that the objective was only lightly held by a handful? of Germans and. a couple of dug-in tanks and that once these were cleared the two villages would present little difficulty. It turned out however that this was one operation which did not go quite according to plan and was by no means as brilliantly successful as the brigade’s first objective, the Normandy beaches zone of these objectives were taken that afternoon, The S. Lancs put in their attack, but had to withdraw after sustaining severe casualties. ‘B’ Company of the Suffolks waited all that afternoon for the word to go in; a period of suspense which only those who have experienced it, can know, We tried to dig in by the side of the road to shelter from the 88 mm shells and mortar bombs which kept whining over, the ground was chalky and we could make little impression on in; hard surface, During this waiting period we lost several men, caused by a direct hit on one of the slit trenches dug, and now vacated by the Lancs and temporarily occupied by the Suffolks.

There was not much to see. One or two prisoners were escorted back, a few wounded and shell-shocked men passed back along the road which ended in the enemy positions. An ambulance and a Red Cross jeep did wonderful work going out time and time again to pick up the wounded in spite of the mortars which had little regard for the symbol of mercy displayed on the side of the two vehicles. It was not until the supporting tanks began to withdraw that we realised that all was not well. No one seemed to know quite what was happening as so often is the case where infantry warfare is concerned.

The suspense was terrible. To me it was not a dissimilar feeling to that which I experienced on the night of June 5th wondering what the morrow would bring and whether I should live to see it through. Were we going in or not? Why this interminable waiting? If we have got to do a job let’s get it over and done with, That I think is what most of us felt. As darkness fell we learned that the Lancs had failed, though it was no fault of theirs, many had lost their lives, many more had been wounded until they had become too depleted and disordered to continue the attack, Now we knew the worst and that provided some measure of relief. We and the S. Yorks would make a dawn attack on the Chateau de la Londe and hold it at all costs. ‘B’ Company would lead the Suffolk attack, which would commence at 0408 hrs after 8 mins of Divisional Artillery preparation.

We changed our positions to the start line after dark and those who were not on guard got in a couple of hours uneasy sleep in bushes and ditches; there was not much comfort. Rations came up in the night. Stone cold steak and kidney pudding is not very palatable at 1 o’clock in the morning, especially eating it with your fingers, but in spite of this it was welcome to us, who had had no food for over 13 hours; not that we had much stomach for it.
My first recollection of that unhappy day was that of being stirred into life by the toe of a section mate’s boot as be said “Get your kit on mate we’re going’ in soon”. I arose stiff and damp from the dew soaked ground and groped round in the dark for my equipment which was equally wet, All around dark shapes were performing similar acts of preparation grunting and cursing and yawning. I wiped the moisture off the working parts of my rifle and made sure that the bayonet was properly fixed, checked that my bandoliers of ammunition and two grenades were secured, and waited shivering, in the cold darkness for the order to move.
Silently we mustered, moved a hundred yards forward from where we had spent the night and lay down in the waist high corn, being thoroughly soaked by this time. Our section lay together in a line abreast. We were good pals, the eight of us always together in England and over here. The Corporal whispered something about keeping together and not losing contact, then there was silence again. In the East the first gleams of daylight could be seen, and only the mooing of a cow broke the uncanny quiet.

Suddenly a series of flashes illuminated the sky behind us followed by rumblings and the familiar whistle of shells and mortars as the Divisional supporting fire opened up, flinging their missiles on to the enemy positions a few hundred yards in front of us. The very ground shuddered under the impact and the scene resembled a gigantic and terrible firework display, black smoke and fumes being wafted towards us as shell upon shell thundered down. Even though it was our own guns who were doing the damage it was, because of our proximity to the bursts, little less terrifying than an enemy bombardment, According to the plan, after 8 mins of this deadly rain of explosives, the Company Commander gave the order to move forward, he in the middle leading the company. Although he shouted at the top of his voice it was barely audible above the almighty din which was going on all round, we were to keep as close to the barrage as possible which was to ‘creep’ forward by 100 yd. stages in order that we might get right up to the enemy while he still had his head down. To add to the racket, the Middlesex joined in, sweeping the front with their medium machine guns. It is difficult to realise that anyone at the receiving end of such mass of organised destruction should survive, let alone fight back. But Jerry was well dug in and he was tough, particularly the Panzer Grenadiers.

The whole Company moved forward and I think there was no man who was not afraid; forward through the soaking corn as close as they dared to the curtain of death in front of them. By this time the Boche, realising that such intensive fire preceded an attack, sent over counter battery fire and dropped shells on our side of the barrage. Casualties were inevitable. The line began to thin out and tended to become disordered. Cries of “stretcher bearer” were soon to be heard, vain cries in many cases, and as a man fell his mate would stop only to put his rifle, bayonet first, in the ground so that the casualty might be more readily located. Some fell silently, a dark red pool staining the corn, being the only indication of the tragedy that had overtaken them. There was no time to wait, we just had to press on, for capture of the enemy and the cessation of his fire was the surest and quickest method of getting aid to those in need.

In the faint light of early morning made darker by the clouds of smoke and dust which were constantly being thrown up it was difficult to see where the rest of one’s platoon or even section, was. Every so often we had to lie down when the shells fell too close, and wait until the barrage lifted another 100 yds.
I found myself walking forward with one of the Corporals and the Company Commander, I, having no idea where the rest of the section had gone. One of the platoon officers shouted for his Sergeant to carry on as he turned and staggered back, his right arm dangling limply at his side. As we passed a group of blazing farm buildings on our right I could make out that it was a much thinner and straggling line which was now advancing. From the burning farm came four figures with their distinctive German helmets faintly gleaming in the red glow. Their hands were not raised, there was no time to argue. A Sten barked for a couple of seconds and the silhouettes crumpled to the ground as we passed on. On, for what seemed hours, sometimes running, sometimes crawling, sometimes lying still, waiting and praying for the barrage to lift. There seemed even less of us now but the Major was still in front bellowing words of encouragement to carry on to those remaining, a leader and an example to his men if ever there was one. I followed like a dog at his master’s heel, going by this time, I knew not where. Despite the intense chill of the early morning air and the cold wetness of my battle dress clinging to me, I could feel perspiration running down my face and neck. My throat felt that I had not tasted water for days, parched by the smoke and cordite fumes, 1 gripped my rifle with a frenzied determination until the knuckles were as white as my face must have looked, could I have seen it.
To clarify the position I must state that we by-passed the Chateau (though I did not know this at the time) and on finally halting prepared to dig in on the enemy held side failing to realise that a company of Germans were still entrenched in the grounds behind us. I think there were about nine of us, including Major Macaffrey. I shall always remember his words, calm and steady as if he had been through just another exercise. “God bless you lads, now dig in as soon as you can, we may be counter-attacked at any moment”. We had found a spot used by one of the dug-in tanks and this afforded a little protection, but would be of no use as a weapon slit trench, The only members of my section there, were the Lance-Corporal and Jarvis, the latter lying on the ground with his foot shattered. As we prepared to dig in the Major told me to go back, try to locate Captain Archdall, the Second in Command, and bring up any other men we could find as it would be impossible to repulse much of a counter-attack with the few men we possessed. He then sent up the Verey signal arranged to indicate to the artillery that the objective had been reached in order that they might lift their fire.

 

This is the second instalment of the "Bloodiest Square Mile in Normandy"
I would like to hear your comments so far.
Sapper.

As events were subsequently to prove, it was fortunate for me that I was selected as the runner, though at the time I would have been far happier, if indeed one could he happy under the circumstances, digging myself a hole in the ground.

Thinking it would lighten my load I left my shovel for one of the others, bitterly regretting my action later in the day. I started back, walking through the wooded parts and running as hard as I could across the open ground to drop breathless in the ditch on the far side. I saw another khaki figure lying in the ditch. I nudged him and told him to get up to the rest as quickly as be could. He neither replied nor moved, The day was already done for him.

There was no time to waste, and as soon as I had recovered my breath I made another dash across the next piece of open ground which ran along the side of the Chateau, but was fortunately screened from the view of the German occupants by the high brick wall surrounding the grounds. It was now light, and had I been observed I should have made an easy target for any sniper, however luck was with me and I gained the shelter of a deep ditch running parallel with one from which I had just come. There were, I discovered two ditches here, divided by a little bank, Slithering over this I was greeted by a faint shout of “Tommie, Tommie”. It came from two badly wounded Germans farther along the ditch. I suppose it was the only English they knew for it was followed by something quite incomprehensible to me, in what I took to be German. I was far too occupied with my own mission to find out what they wanted, but at the same time much relieved to see that the only enemy I had encountered were in no condition to offer resistance Taking advantage of the cover I made a quick reconnaissance of the land over which I had crossed earlier, though it looked different in the light and the absence of the smoke and dust.

I spotted Corporal Rose coming along an adjacent hedge with four of his section (he was killed a few minutes later) and made towards him leaving the two casualties moaning and dismayed, to I know not what fate. I shouted to them that they would be picked up, but in their ignorance of the language I think it helped them little, I informed the Corporal breathlessly of the position and he in turn told me that the rest of the Company, a dozen men and Captain Archdall were sheltering further along the hedge. Soon after starting to make his way forward Rose ran into a fatal burst of Spandau fire.

Captain Archdall, anxious to learn the whereabouts of the Company Commander and the rest, bade me as soon as I had recovered, to lead the way back, since I alone, knew where the others were. By the usual dash and crawl manner we got half way back and were sheltering in a partly filled-in moat against the Chateau wall preparing for the next move, when we observed that a Tiger tank now occupied the field which I had twice crossed. We immediately lay low.

I have already explained that there were still Germans in the Chateau and they had by now decided that it was time to quit, to execute this maneuver they had despatched one tank to cover this flank. Their route of escape was through the little copse where I had left the others. I never saw them again, but I think they were all taken prisoner, except Major MacCaffrey, who, now wounded in the shoulder, was passed unobserved by the retreating Hun.

We could hear the frantic orders of the Germans on the other side of the wall, but to have revealed ourselves with the tank in so commanding a position and we, having no A/T weapons, would have been suicidal. There was nothing to do but wait for the Tiger to complete his defending action, (though I must add we did not know then, quite what the Germans were doing) and move off in the wake of his fellows. Whatever else, it provided a breather for a little, after the violent activity so far. How long we waited thus I cannot say, powerless to do anything and praying that we had not been observed.

Eventually it lumbered away swinging its deadly 88 mm gun rearwards as it went. The Second in Command, deciding it was now impossible to contact our forward position, ordered us to line the hedge and dig in. It was now that I realised the folly of having parted with my shovel, To borrow one would have been rather like asking a drowning man for his lifebelt; I cursed myself for being such a fool.

As soon as we had lined the hedge, Jerry, his withdrawal now complete, sent over some airburst mortar bombs which he always used for ranging purposes, Three of us jumped for a German trench and being the last in, I was rather more exposed than the other two. The bombs cracked off and the splinters of metal whistled through the branches overhead, but no more followed.

Straightening up again, I sensed a sweet, sickly smell and felt the lad in between the other occupant and myself, slide further down into the hole, “My arm”, he gasped, I saw that between his shoulder and elbow was a bloody mess as if he had been clawed by a savage beast, so that the hone itself could be seen showing through. We did the best we could for him by applying his field dressing, which was totally inadequate, as tightly as possible, to arrest the flow of blood. That he might have all the protective benefit of the trench we propped him up in the bottom, for he was too weak to walk, and left him in the hope that the stretcher bearers might soon come up. I never knew how he got on.

Those who could, dug; dug for their lives in every sense. Without anything to entrench myself I hurried along the hedge in the hope of finding some sort of shelter, for it would not be long before a barrage followed those ranging shot.
Beneath the wreckage of what had been a door I found a trench about two feet deep, made presumably by the Germans. This at any rate was better than nothing and I at once set frantically to work, to deepen it by using my steel helmet as a scoop. It was laborious work, and I seemed to make but, small impression after the loose top soil had been taken off. Then one of the other lads case along and seeing that I had at least got some sort of cover, suggested that we shared his shovel and take it in turns to dig as hard as we could. Although the trench was not very long I considered it quite a sound idea, especially as he took the first shift, I seized the opportunity to take a swig at the stale warm water in my bottle; the first drink for many hours.

I suppose we had gone down about another six inches when it started, but we had more cover than most of the lads who had had to start from scratch. As the first shells fell we got down as flat as we could in the trench, but there was not room to lie full length. Our boots were in each other’s faces, and our heads twisted in order that we might get as far down as possible.

We lowered the door down on top, it that it would have stopped much, but it gave a feeling of added protection. What followed, for what seemed hours, was an ordeal, worse than anything which had gone before. In a great show of hatred for his eviction from the Chateau, the Boche appeared to hurl everything in his armoury at our newly occupied positions. Every second there was the terrifying whizz of shells through the trees, cutting the limbs like butter. Branches came tumbling down and each new, near explosion sent earth down our necks and in our mouths and eyes. To add to the intense discomfort, I developed cramp in the legs, being unable to move in this huddled position. It would have been fatal to have got up, so I had to bear it as best I could though the pain was maddening. Lying with your head to the ground tends to amplify the sound and vibration of explosives and under such concentrated fire it seemed that the whole world around us was erupting as indeed, to some extent it was.

To analyse one’s feelings under such circumstances is difficult. as each shell approaches you have a terrible dread that it will land on you; you forget everyone and everything else; this shell is for you; it is intended for you; it is going to hit YOU, And as each finds you still alive after its detonation, you decide that, that one has gone over, but the next one will be it. Therefore the strain of a prolonged period of this kind can he imagined. It is a period of acute mental torture.

After grovelling, praying and trembling, for how long I have no idea, the din ceased. The quiet was unbelievable and unreal. The ground was still again. We lay stupified for a few minutes not daring to move even to stretch our cramped limbs, lest it should start up again. Suddenly the lid of our coffin was raised , and an equally distressed Corporal shouted, “Get back, get out of it, we’ve had it, all the others have been killed, Get back to B.H.Q if you can, get back “ Without giving us more information he dashed off. Despite our stiffness we jumped out of the trench and a grim sight met our gaze. Not a figure moved. All the twenty men or so who had lined the hedge lay in various attitudes, most with shovels still clutched in their lifeless hands.

They had been caught digging in. Captain Archdal and C.S.M. Broom were only recognizable by their badges of rank, the rest we did not stop to identify, our orders were to go back and after all there was little that two of us could have done, not knowing where the rest of the company were.
Sapper

 

Hello Gottfried von Hammerstein und Hartmann.

Thank you for your kind words. I too, hope that the young people of the World will not have to undergo the trials of war that we experienced. I do not think, that what ever we say, or do, or what tales we tell, can ever really convey what war is really like. Only that select band of Veteran brothers, can enjoy the bond and the special comradeship of those who have fought, and have experienced, what it is like to face death and the terrible wounding’s that war can inflict. Try as we may, the civilian population will never understand that special relationship of fighting men. Nor, I may add, will they be able to understand that the tales we tell now, are true.

I was so annoyed by the unbelieving glances when relating the story of one operation that I sent for the Companies war diaries. They cost me £76, but worth every penny to prove my story.

For as YOU will know, some very peculiar things and events happen in war. Some of them almost unbelievable. I have on occasions, gone deep behind the enemy lines on special missions. Sadly, those who were there at the time have long departed this Earth. When you tell the youngsters about these events, they look at you sideways as though you some how not quite with it!

I was wounded in Normandy, near Vire, clearing "S" Mines under fire. My mate was killed and I still have a steel ball in my skull, and the scars in other places.

I was wounded again in Holland. after the battles for Overloon and Venraij, this time at one in the morning while collecting the next days battle orders, I think by an 88.
A great deal of damage to legs, Spine, left knee, and with lots of other injuries. (A year or more in Hospital.) I am 100% war disabled and can only get about with great difficulty. The object of the stories I have been adding to these forums is to ensure as far as I can, that those who died will be remembered.
Sapper.
Late of 246 Field Company R. E.
The D. Day. Assault Company of the Eighth Brigade.
Third British Infantry Division.
Montie’s ironsides.

 

Thank You Sapper. Your texts (almost) take us back in time to Normandy, and one can feel the fear in his spine and hear the guns firing.Truly appreciated!

 

This then, is the final installment of one day in the “Bloodiest square mile in Normandy”
I hope that it gives an insight into war, and all its misery.

Tomorrow, I am having lunch with Richard Harris (who wrote this bit of history) in a pleasant little country restaurant.

After having gone back about three hundred yards we came upon one of the Platoon Sergeants with a few men from BH.Q and also a platoon comrade of mine (one I had been in the Essex Regiment with) who had gone to the Regimental First Aid Post earlier in the day to have a superficial wound dressed and had been sent up again. The Sergeant said that they had been told to remain here until more men could he brought up and then we should move to the forward positions again.

By this time I had acquired a shovel from one of the boys who no longer had no need of it. Once more, rather exhausted now, we started to dig in. After we had dug only a shallow trench we must have been observed by an anti-tank gun which was situated on a slight, but commanding rise, some 800 yds away. At about one minute intervals it sent its 38 mm shells screaming through the hedges and (by reason of the low trajectory) tearing a furrow through the ground only a few yards away. Once more we flattened ourselves and prayed that it might soon end one way or the other, Fortunately the fire was observed by our artillery, whose counter fire either knocked it out or caused it to withdraw. There was some more mortaring, but it was not so close and by no means as intense as we had experienced during the morning.

By now it was tea time, but there was no tea and many of us had not eaten for 24 hours, and as a few more men came up, men from B.H.Q. who have other jobs to perform and are not usually combatants, we left our holes and wearily went forward. “It’s suicide”, grumbled my mate. Perhaps he was not far wrong. On the way we passed many more still, khaki forms, and I remember thinking at the time that any one of them might have been me and that each, would be to some home, somewhere, a personal tragedy.

When I thought about it afterwards I recalled a game we played as kids with old milk bottles, We would stand them on a wall and throw stones at them. Some fell down and were broken and some fell and were not broken. Those we stood up on the wall, time and time again until none were left.
There were many broken bottles in the field round the Chateau, but there were a few more to stand up, on the wall again.

It was decided that the surviving members of the platoon would dig in together and form a rather under strength section. Evening found the four of us, Wakeling, Gooderham, Brunning and myself, fatigued, hungry and thirsty, trying to get under cover before the next show started. Thinking that it might be easier going, we sited our trench, Wakeling and I, that is, on a shell crater. Truly it was easier to dig, but we discovered afterwards, that because the ground had been so disturbed, any quick movement made the sides crumble and usually fall down the back of our necks.

Had we been fresher and less dispirited we might have set to and made a fresh start, but we had neither the energy nor the heart to do so. All we felt like was food and sleep, but both seemed very remote, Harry Wakeling discovered he bad a few tablets for heating water, and I had a small tin of compo tea (dried milk, tea and sugar mixed) which, though it had a small piece of shrapnel embedded in it, was none the worse for that. All we had to do was to find a container in which to heat the remaining water in our bottles, not that it wanted much heating for it was fairly warm now,

Harry found a discarded steak and kidney tin, a little greasy, but we were not particular. Now compo tea has at best, only a distant likeness to tea in its more conventional state, and with little globules of fat floating on the top of the brew is no more appetising, but to us, as we put the jagged tin to our lips it was Nectar. Hot and gloriously wet. We next shared a precious tin of sardines; after a 24 hour fast they made me feel sick, I have never eaten any since.

As dusk came, we stood to, as we had done every night since the landing. After this one in each trench used to snatch 2 hours coveted sleep, while the other watched. Then came the turn of the first to watch. I was looking forward to that soul saving two hours this night. Came the end of that day, filled with bitter memories and disappointments, with yet another blow. There would be no sleep tonight for anyone, for in view of the liability of counter-attack there would be a double all night watch.
So ends this dawn to dusk account of the 28th of June.

IN CONCLUSION.
So the day was ours. There was nothing spectacular about it. It was just one of the many battles which took place in Normandy. The preceding pages have been officially condensed to ‘A Limited Advance or the Caen Sector’
Yes, the day was indeed ours and we were that much nearer Caen But the old spirit of the Company was gone, for ever, We were made up again numerically, but the reinforcements cannot replace old and well tried friends, The 28th was a day of great bereavement to comrades and relatives alike, One member of my Platoon, writing to me from a Ministry of war Pensions, hospital two years later, has cause to remember the day. He is still paralysed from the waist down, from a piece of shrapnel embedded in his spine. He was trying to dig in. Young Jarvis who was mentioned as wounded, was found in the corn later. There must have been many who died of inattention in that corn, before they could be picked up

In assessing the chances of a front line infantry man coming through unscathed the following is of interest. My Platoon on ‘D’ Day numbered 33. After June 28th there were 6. (2 more joined the 4 of us a day later), Of the remaining 6 one was evacuated with severe shell shock in July and on August 13th, 3 were killed (when, as the book says ‘B’ Company were caught fair and square) and Wakeling and myself wounded, and later evacuated. Our casualties were 100%.


On the simple memorial which the battalion pioneers erected at the Chateau, was inscribed the words:-“They shall never be forgotten” I wonder?
Sapper

 

Sapper - you and the men of your generation won't be forgotten.

There is a growing interest in all things WW2, and a growing realisation in the UK that the British Army played a major role.

It is important that veterans like yourself should share their memories with us all, so that the experience of war, terrible as it is, should be read and understood by generations who have seen little or no conflict.

Next time I am in Normandy I will have to check if that memorial is still there - I don't remember seeing it before.

Thanks for all your postings - hope you will continue?

 

Sapper, your tale and the one you posted have got through to me in a way I can barely describe. I have always been accredited to have a vivid imagination, and I had before my eye the very situations you and your friend portrayed. For a brief moment I was almost really "there". Language fails me, so I must resort to my mother tongue. I found those last three pages "umwerfend". I just checked the dictionary and the official English translation of that word is not what I mean at all.

I think it really is valuable that such accounts of history exist and that there are men prepared to relive these awful moments by writing them. I thank you deeply.

And they will not be forgotten. Those who were there will never forget, and those who read this will never forget either. At least I won't.

 

Hello. Sommecourt, and Andreas Seidal,
Thank you for your very kind words, I must admit that I am more than pleased to read your appreciation’s of what is written in the previous pages. Thank you very much, you make an old fellow very happy. Yesterday, as I said, I motored out to Sturminster Newton. In Dorset, and met up with my old infantry mate Richard Harris, we both served in the Eighth Brigade. Both of us were wounded near Vire. Unfortunately, Richard lost part of his hand and had to be sent back to a hospital in England.
Today, I feel though I have been through the mangle, for I am very tired after the journey.

There are very many other stories of those times, one that Andreas may find interesting, for it concerns two Germans. One a paratroop Doctor, and the other an American serving in the German army. I often lay in bed at night and wonder what happened to these people? did they live through the war? Where are they now? Sadly I think it almost impossible that I shall ever find out.
Sapper. By the way, Richard sends his best wisjes to you all.

 

That's brilliant Otto - what a swell guy you are. Vets need this sort of encouragement, otherwise they think we don't care. You have done our old friend Sapper here proud with these pages.

Excellent stuff!

 

Hi Gentlemen.
One of the most revealing bits of war history in my possession, is the Log of a Royal Naval ship, "The Princess Astrid" Bless her! She was a previous Belgium cross channel packet and was taken over and into The Royal Navy. She served with distinction during the invasion of Normandy but then finished her illustrious career when she hit a mine in the channel after the war, and sunk. Well, it was best, perhaps, that the old lady should die with her boots on. This log was given to me by Stan Hough who served on her and it is entirely his own work, it is rather long, but does have a war time atmosphere. Perhaps someone would like to me to add pages now and again?
Sapper.

 

Sapper,

I've been closely following your stories and very much appreciate your kindness in sharing all of this. Your story and sacrifice has become THE reason I visit this forum. Thank you so much.

 

Hello Doc Raider.
Thank you for those kind words, I do welcome with open arms any comment, good, bad or just so so, we do not all see eye to eye, and that is how it should be, for thank heavens, we are all different. As to the content of these pages there is a great deal to come, for, so far, I have not got out of Normandy, and will not for a little while yet. I was not sure if I should include the next article, for some, it will be upsetting, but it is what actually happened and we should remember, and learn from the past.
Sapper

A note of caution. For all of us.
What follows some of you may find disturbing, some may even say “why has he included this”? For, it is something we are trying to forget. For that I apologise. Nevertheless, it is part of the “Dark side” of the war in Europe, and must never be forgotten. For what follows here, is what happens when ordinary folk turn their faces away from what is going on around them. To that end, it is vitally important that we remember how easily it is for this sort of thing to happen. (I hope that bit does not sound like preaching) it was not meant to.
Sapper.

Belson Concentration Camp
Visited 22 Apr 45, 6 days after its capture by Second Army.

I was accompanied on my tour of inspection by Royal Army Medical Corps officers who were engaged on relief work in the camp, and this constituted my authority for the few statements in this report which I cannot claim were the results of my own observations.

The camp contained 60,000 political prisoners, and this population consisted of men, women and children. They were of various nationalities; Russian, Polish, Dutch, French and to a small extent German.. Jews were in the majority, all were accommodated in huts.

It is obvious that the Germans did not intend that any of the prisoners should leave the camp alive, and the method of destruction which was chosen was death by very slow torture, i.e. By starvation. The rations given to the prisoners consisted of one cup of Swede soup a day, and one loaf of black bread for every twelve persons, per week. In addition to this, the Germans ensured that by the deliberate withholding of adequate sanitation, diseases such as dysentery, typhoid, typhus and tuberculosis, should become seriously prevalent, and in this latter object they were highly successful.

When they realised some weeks ago that the camp would be cap-tured, the Germans ordered that no further burials would take place, and so there were found in the camp, lying singly, or in large or small heaps, no fewer than 18,000 corpses which had ac-cumulated at the rate of 500 per day.

The first thing which I saw was the washing of women patients who had been brought to the camp by ambulance car to the German barracks adjoining the camp. It was a pitiful sight. The washing was done by German nurses who had been brought from elsewhere. The prisoners bod-ies were completely without fat, and muscle was negligible. Bones were on the point of break-ing the skin, which in all cases was affected with bed sores, excoriations and disease. These women were completely helpless and screamed with pain as the nurses moved them.

It was all-most impossible to assess the age of these women. Their hair had been cropped or cut very short, and they seemed little else but skeletons, clothed in skin. Their shrunken bodies, their shorn heads and the evidence of past and present suffering, made them all appear to be old. Their screams seemed to exhaust them. The contrast between them and the sleek and healthy German nurses who attended them, will not be easily forgotten. So light were these women that two were easily carried on one stretcher and there was still plenty of room. I visited the ward where the women were taken after being washed. The English Nursing Sister in charge spoke of the severe shock, which took 12 hours to show signs of abatement, in those patients who were expected to live. Here they were at least clean, and if they were to die, they would not die in filth.

An adequate description of the camp is difficult. It covers many acres and strewn through out the camp were naked, or semi-naked corpses. Sometimes singly, sometimes in heaps of a dozen, or forty or fifty. These mounds of bodies appeared to occasion no concern on the part of the prisoners; the sight had become to familiar. All these people had died by starvation, by pre-ventable disease or both.

There was a huge pit lOO yds long and 4Oyds wide, almost full of corpses, still unburied. I cannot give the depth of this pit, but there appeared to be about 100 corpses therein. It is not known how many hundred lay underneath those I saw.

Latrines, if they existed at all, were primitive, and prisoners of both sexes were seen defae-cating anywhere and everywhere. I visited a hut full of women. They were lying in bunks, two or three lying in one bunk intended for one person. Some could smile and talk, others lay there moaning or silent. Two or three were defaecating into tins in the hut. Most of the women were too weak to leave their bunks, with the obvious results. The stench in the room was ghastly. None of the prisoners had had the opportunity or the strength to wash for weeks. Almost all showed the flush and bright eyes of fever.

Another hut contained some women who were even more ill and with them were the dead and dying. All were accommodated on mattresses, one inch thick. Those who were conscious moaned with pain or weakness. One of them held her hand for my attention. A finger was swol-len to nearly its double size with a whitlow, and she begged me to help her. Her agony must have been intense and her condition was such that the simplest surgery could have prevented it. This woman had on her right side a corpse and on her left, one who was unconscious and on the point of dying. When I left this hut I asked to see the Hospital which the Germans provided for their sick women prisoners. I was told that this last hut was the hospital. It had less right to the title of hospital than anything I have ever seen.
In contrast to the prisoners who had been in the camp for months, or even years, there were those who had been fairly recently admitted. They were thin but they could walk and it was appalling to consider that the latter would inevitably would have become as the former, had the camp not been captured.

I was told that I had not seen the camp at its worst and that already there was an improve-ment. Although very many cases, including those suffering from Typhus, had been, and were being rescued from the camp by RAMC personnel, it was quite certain that many so rescued were beyond hope of recovery. I do not know the total deaths in the camp, but I do know that there are still hundreds of men and women yet to die. Solely as a result of their being prisoners in BELSEN.
23. April, 45. Army Medical Services

This is an exact copy of an original report by the Medical Services attending at Belsen concen-tration camp. Nothing has been added or taken away. The original document was printed on thin war time paper and is very old and worn.

The next bit of war history is "Into the battle for Caen, to the sound of the bagpipes" If that does not make your skin creep. nothing will.
Sapper.

 

I have been to Bergen a number of times and passed very close by the site where the concentration camp once was. I have also read this post before as it is available for reading from the main site.

We must surely never forget this, certainly not as Germans but I believe that the whole world should never forget this great man-made tragedy.