Sword Beach to Bremen., A Veterans tale. Sapper

Thankyou Brian.

 

Sapper - forgive me have been away from for last four days and just catching up again.

There is a Weert in Belgium close to Antwerp on the Scheldt (Escaut in French, I think) but clearly you are at the Canal Junction de la Meuse a l' Escaut. Weert in Holland seems to be a fair way from the Canal but I guess you were crossing somewhere between Bree and Neerpelt - am I right?

 

Weert In Holland. We crossed the Escaut Canal at Petit Brogel,,, The folk that celebrated their freedom wore orange favours. We advanced to Weert via Maarheeze,
All the locals used Guilders,
Cheers Scipio

 

Note……At Southampton I joined the Home Guard.. Those were dangerous times and then it was deadly serious... Even if the Dads army reminds us of them.

Besides my HG duties, I was out and about at night, helping and searching for land mines that got caught in trees. And searching near the Docks for UXBs..You always knew when unexploded bombs dropped, the sound of the bomb dropping no explosion, but a deadly earth shaking THUMP….

When I got into the army I was ordered to report in my HG uniform. Indeed, I was wearing it the night my war ended in South East Holland.

 

Thanks for the map references Sapper - I can now understand the path taken.

By the Way - I see that there is a Suffolkweg between the two main bridges at Weert.

I presume that this is to honour the Suffolk Regiment since I see that they were with you at Overloon.

 

The Suffolks were part of the leading 8th Brigade, along with the East Yorks and the South Lancs with 246 Field Co RE/ 8th being our habitual brigade

 

13 9 11

Got back from our venture into the enemies territory covered in mud, and with a very bad smell. Cleaned up. The hutted SS training camp was badly shelled and battered but there was enough cover left to get us out the rain. I noticed the floorboards creaked and that one was loose, lifted it and found a collection of fine Sherry bottles put away there, so we would have a little night cap every evening.

The war had virtually come to a stop in this sector, (Bogged down) although the shelling never stopped. There was hardly any movement in the mud of Holland. It was at that time that my platoon officer took me to one side and informed me, I had been awarded the C in Cs commendation…Known as “Monty’s Certificates” I am still waiting for it to arrive 67 years on. This keen young idiot had volunteered to do DRs duties, on top of my own Sappers. . We had run out of DRs.!

Now this will sound daft, but by now I am a trusted 19 year old Veteran. In the company now were many fresh young faces,. The main of the old lads had departed, one way or another. So now the war had changed once again.. There were not so many familiar faces to be seen…
I was ordered to collect the next days battle orders back at Venraij.

First night I took a half track….horrible peering through 2 inches of glass and the size of letterbox. Bloody hopeless, drove into a tank road and could not get out. That is well documented here. The next night took a motor bike. Fine, until I was half way back, when there was a loud bang. I was blasted off. The bike carried off down the road. Laying in the road legs twisted and great pain from my back. As I lay there it started to snow lightly, I felt it on my face.
A Bedford coming up the road hit the bike and realised there was a rider somewhere, found me and got a doctor. Taken to Helmond with English nurses. Travelled to the South and here I will repeat what I wrote earlier for it describes well what happened.

To follow next; A repeat of the iron box ambulance and the “Gates of Hell”

 

Many thanks for continuing with your reminiscences here, Brian - they really are fascinating to read !

 

Next we come to the real agony of war....... The depth of great suffering that wounded men have to endure. Then and now.

 

14 9 11

This is a reprint of something I wrote earlier, I use it again as it seems to convey the horrors of war very clearly. For now the war had changed completely. Now came the worst of times.

Taken back from the front line, I found myself in a school, my stretcher balanced on top of a school desk with a large upstairs window alongside. Unable to move and partly deaf, to my amazement a young English nurse came to give me some treatment, "are you an English nurse"? "yes, of course I am"

She walked across the room with a hypodermic syringe that looked like a knitting needle on the end of a half pint milk bottle, a huge thing full of green liquid, "you're not going to stick that in me?" "got to" she said, "anti gas gangrene injection, stops you getting gangrene in your wounds" after, I had this very large green swelling on my arm to add to all my other disfigurements.

What followed next can only be described as a living nightmare, a nightmare of sheer agony. Put into an army ambulance with other wounded in racks on each side and in a very confined space, the inside had been blacked out so that we had to lay there on our stretchers in pitch black darkness.

The Journey in this square iron box of an ambulance took us over the uneven war torn and cobbled roads all the way to Eindhoven in the South of Holland. This journey was the nearest thing to hell on earth that it is possible to imagine, with my broken bones grating and the indescribable pain of my back injuries.

In the beginning, I had been determined not to join in the moaning and groaning with pain, but it was not long before I was crying out in pain just like the other wounded, so much pain that it was not possible to talk to the other men. Hell and back is not an exaggeration. Nor is the term Nightmare, I still find it very difficult to convey just how ghastly that journey was. I never knew who the other wounded were, and I do not think it was possible for the others to have survived the journey, as we drove on, the groans had became fainter and fainter and eventually stopped.

This is the other side of war, being badly wounded, a side that nobody wants to know about. Arriving at what I think was Eindhoven? I was put into a little cupboard full of cardboard boxes, with my stretcher balanced on top of them, with just enough room, about 4/5 feet in the air. There was no space left to put the wounded….

Still lying on the same stretcher that I had been on for many hours, during the journey the blood had soaked through everything, of even under my back and into the stretcher. So bad, that thick congealed blood stuck me to the stretcher. By now the pain had become unbearable, given morphine the pain would still not subside and a nurse told me, "you must not have more, you will become an addict".

Next "The Gates of Hell"

 

Brian,
Very sorry that you had to suffer so terribly. Words cannot express my anguish.

RK

 

No worrie, s that is many years ago. And it must be said though my injuries are severe, there were a great many worse off

 

Brian,
You don't need me to tell you about your strength and quality of character. Thanks for putting your story into words so I can learn some lessons to apply to the peace time society and hopefully be ready for the trying times that may come my way. Your lessons are truly appreciated.

Take care, Sir!

 

15 9 11

“Here are Gates of Hell”
Transferred later to a small ward with beds crammed all round the room. Several other wounded were there, trying to get to sleep was impossible, the pain being bad enough, some of the other men kept waking up, screaming.

Picture this scene, if you can! A small dark, square shaped ward, with all the curtains drawn, dimly lit from a small red light in the centre of the ceiling, The overpowering, sickly warm stench of human blood pervaded everything, with beds crammed in and almost touching, men with terrible wounds and with limbs missing. Some men, motionless, wide eyed, still, silently staring at the ceiling. God knows! what thoughts held them in this silent manacled iron grip.

Blood stains everywhere, some men had thrown the covers off the beds in their agony, some sitting up leaning on an elbow, silently gazing into space, the low moaning of men in great pain, your own continuous and unremitting pain of back, leg, and knee injuries.

Some men talked in their sleep, often starting in a conversational tone, ending with a scream, or a loud shout of pain, or despair. Sleep, because of pain, was only possible for very short periods when exhaustion overtook us, then! To be wakened by the blood curdling screams and shouts of men who had suffered the agony, not only of body, but also of mind. Men, who had seen the worst of the hell of war. Dante’s Inferno had nothing on this. For here, was a glimpse into what lay beyond the ‘Gates of Hell’ For me, there is no escape from that vision, for many years I dreamed about, and relived the memory of that dimly lit ward, that ward that still exists in my mind, still there on the mental pathway that leads to the ’ Gates of Hell’

Even today, some 67 years on, that ward still remains with me, every detail, sharp and clearly defined. It was a place that any sane person would run screaming from, saying:

“For Gods sake! don’t make me go back in there”

 

Thanks... Though to be honest these are the stories of an age long past. An age when the world was a very different place than we have today. It is also true that for all intents and purposes; we are "Relics"

Now many of the younger generation are completely unaware of what took place 67 years ago. Or how close we came to disaster....For it was a very close run thing....

Realistically.. We old Veterans must be like something from the old testament, things they read about, but are not aware that many still exist. We are Dinosaurs! HUGE GRIN!

Now "Please" bear with me while I "pontificate" and make a few observations. Firstly the plight of those that suffered battle exhaustion. Why? because in my way of thinking, this is the very worst of all the war injuries or wounds. It is caused in the first place by excessive exposure to all that war brings. It is not cowardice! it is a mental breakdown. We all have our breaking points; that many of us did not suffer this ghastly injury? is down to our outlook on life.

I had a particularly good mate. that succumbed on the night of the savagery of the crossing of the Escaut canal. My mate just broke down and could not continue..... IF you are out there HG? I would be very proud to shake the hand of a tough little scrapper. Even if I did part your hair with Sten fire!
Why is this the worst of wounds? Because if they are fortunate to recover they will be aware of what happened.....For the rest of their lives.... That is a terrible thing to have to bear.... Not right, for it is very similar to a stroke..
Secondly. have a heart for the elderly Vets when they try to park. I live in a seaside town where all during the summer it becomes very difficult.

Now the BLESMA people asked the Government to stop the abuse and frauds with the Disabled Blue badge scheme. Two councils have told me that fraud with these badge is running at about 70%.

To overcome this the Blue badge was redesigned, and and the fine for fraudulent use was brought up to £1000.00 A thousand! Yet today that fraudulent use of these badges is even worse. and the problem remains worse, where those that park in disabled areas. when not entitled.

All it needs is for the authorities to start using the one thousand pounds penalty that was designed just for that purpose of stopping the fraud.

Cheers

 

Pleased to see you are still driving Sapper. Just managed to finally persuaded my Veteran father (or rather two accidents - both his fault) to abandon his car and he hates it. However, there came a time when his reactions were so poor that he could have easily killed some child and that would have been worse.

Anyway the real reason for this posting is to compliment you on the excellence of your writing and in particular the description of your suffering and treatment in "hospital".

In many books, I have read about wounded soldiers but never have I experienced the feeling that your recent posts have had on me.

It brings it home to me the suffering that my Grandfather must have endured, gassed and wounded in arm and leg in WWI. Pains so terrible that many years later, he would try to knock himself out to relieve the suffering. At times he would suffer partial paralysis and half his body and his face would go stiff. He was the hardest man I will ever know but while we, his grandchildren loved him, his children did not and I am sure that his injuries were partially reponsible for this.

He always wore a metal and leather brace on his arm but still managed to keep down a job on the Corporation Buses that is until he had to retire 6 months short - and then the bxxstards refused to give him a long service gold watch and knowing he had a small pension for his war wounds they always docked this amount from his pay.

 

Real Military Question about your friend who went temporarily AWOL.

Was this the only man that it happened to in your unit?

I did read a report by an War Dept Inspector, Colonel Wigram, who tried to bring up this subject of "Panic". He claimed that about 20 men in a Battalion were prone to this and that they tended to be well known with the result that the COs would leave them out of the action where possible. This was important (in his opinion) since one man "panicking" could have a disproportionate effect on the rest. What are your views? (Wigram wanted them identified and taken out of the front line from what I understand).

 

Sounds about bloody right..!

 

He was the only one in my time... No one else. I dont blam him... was bloody awful.

 

17 9 11
Let us take a brief look at the “Sappers” I hope that all those that read these pages will bear with me, while I blow the Sappers trumpet “Just a little”

WW2 Infantry Divisions had three RE Field Companies. Now I can only talk about the one I know well. Monty’s Ironsides. (Third British Infantry Division) The companies were 246.. 17... and 253. If I recall, the strength of a Field Company was about 200 men so the combined strength of the three companies would be 600 or thereabouts. Far less in numbers than an infantry battalion. Some one will soon tell me if I am wrong?

Yet these Sappers earned themselves the highest number of medals and awards of any unit in Monty’s Ironsides…. 43 to be exact. This backs up the oft repeated assertion that the war in NW Europe was an Engineers war. Some of these awards were in my opinion worth more than the courage of the deed involved.

Here I have in mind the little group of sappers from my company, that opened up a mine free path into the huge defensive position in Normandy known as “Hillman” This was a huge area some 650 meters by 450 meters in length and breadth. Covered in cross fire from every direction. Yet Lt Arthur Heal RE with his little band of Sappers, made their
way through the defences opening up a track into the heart of the position. Where explosives were shoved into the gun slits causing absolute mayhem down in the heart of the underground passages.

All this was achieved laying in a prone position, and working their way through while under constant heavy fire. To me, that was the bravest act anywhere in the whole invasion coast, and should have warranted a VC instead of the Croix De Geurre he was awarded.

But that is only my opinion. Whatever, those actions saved many lives and enabled the taking of Normandy easier than when the place was “Active“.

While on the subject of Sappers, It is worth mentioning the skills they showed while out at night in front of the leading infantry, laying a mine field on downward slope facing the enemy. The efficiency and skill in creating the mine field in utter silence was to say the least “remarkable”

I mourn the passing of the RE Field Companies. For they achieved great things,,,, As Captain Edwards three platoon RE said…246 Field Company RE was the best in the world. Bar none… big grin!

Thanks for reading this short description of the changing face of conflict, and atmosphere of war.
Sapper..