Hi Sapper,
I am a little late to this party, but Have been reading your post in order, afraid to miss anything. I had read post #181 and wanted to comment on those who give service above and beyond not expecting reward.
I am a veteran of the US Navy, not during war though. I have met those who's service is extraordinary, and it is a compliment to them that they are not rewarded. That their performance standards are so high and consistant is testimony that their deeds, although valorous and exemplory, are the "norm" for those individual. I often see those who are rewarded are those who were quite ordinary that step up to the level of the afore mentioned. That said, I wold not wish anyone to think I am degrading those who's stardards are high, quite the opposite. I, like you, think that they should be rewarded for their consistantly high standard of action and valor. Those who rise from a mediocre level to this high standard should also be rewarded, I believe any man who fights in combat, and does not run deserves our highest respect. Those who accel beyond this deserves our recognition!
Those who gave the highest price demand our respect, recognition, and most of all our gratitude by conducting ourselves in a manner that in times of peace preserves the freedoms that they fought and paid for.
Forgive me if this sounds like it turned into a rant, I have the utmost respect for you and your generation, thank you for my freedom.
John

Hi John Cheers mate Brian (Sapper)

Rant? I don't see a rant here. Carry on.

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Best Regards,
JW

Brian,
I was just wondering, you said you mistrusted the sten gun and for good reason from what you wrote. Did you ever have the opportunity to use the M-1 Garand, and what were your thoughts on that weapon?

Hi Pleased to know you. No, I never used any weapon except British and German. I carried the Bren through my time, and thought it great bit of kit, For me it produced a pattern of five with one in the middle.
I also had my rifle and a Sten. I have tried a Schmeiser light MC gun, it was quite outstanding. But using it could cost your life, as the sound was distinctive and could attract a burst from your mates.It did happen, men were killed. Company orders forbade the use of German waepons for that reason we all knew the sound of them...
Cheers and best wishes.
Sapper

Sir, pleasure to make your acquaintance. I read your account of Falaise Pocket and I was shocked by your description of the carnage that was beyond belief. It certainly gave me a new appreciation of Normandy as one of the turning point of the war.

Sir i am mesmoriesed by your story my great grandfather also fought on the normandy beach head and in sicily.

Brian,
I to have heard the notion that the "Northern Beaches" had it easy and always found it hard to believe. I am glad that you have set the record straight. As a child in the seventies I use to play war with my boyhood friends. Seeing the "John Waynes" of the big screen glamorize heroism in a clean and tity fashion, we romantisized landing at Normandy, or a Pacific Island. Of course now that I am older I have a different view of what war really is and how wasteful it always is.
My children (2 boys, 12yrs and 13yrs) are home schooled and will have your post and others on this forum as required reading. I want them to grow up with a realistic view of war.
I teach them that no war is good, all waste the life blood of a nations future. But there are things worth fighting for and freedom is one of them. Thank you for your post, live free and peaceful my new friend.
John

Thank John... Very much.... for the kindness. You are right..... What is not often realised, is that this Country had fought a war across the globe, resulting in the loss of the cream of our manhood...

Where that became such a major disaster, was after the war when the Country Was completely bankrupt...Then we really suffered for we were missing those young men that would have aggressively pushed our Country forward. Sadly. That driving force was not there ....It was missing.
Sapper

Sir,

As an engineer, how did you carry all of those weapons? I am catching up with your posts, but you were in an infantry unit. Did you leave your other weapons on a vehicle? If so, has there been any problem with leaving your gear, collection of booty or goodies from home unattended in the company trains?

We were a field Company, they serve at the sharp end. More often than not our company would harbour just behind the front line. From where we could sally forth into what ever operation, assault, or attack, we were involved in.

Often we would go out on fighting patrols. The weapons we did not need, were left behind at the Harbour area..We did not have the SAS in those days, anything out of the ordinary? we did it ourselves.

Did we get anything stolen? NEVER. The very idea that some one would nick your rifle or sten was unthinkable.

Penalty for that in an active area, would bring very severe punishment. Maybe the "Glass House" The army penal outfit...... Only stark raving lunatics would ever contemplate a spell in the Glass House..... Believe me !!!!! They are places of exceptionally severe punishment...... A Horror. NO, I never lost single thing, leave it where you like. Safe as houses besides... We certainly do not steal anything. Nor did we take anything that was not ours. Despite the tales you may have heard...Army discipline was always in charge...
Sapper

Brian,
I wish I would have found this site earlier, I was in England a few years ago, and I would have loved to buy you dinner while I was there. Maybe next time I cross the "pond".
John

Great John.
WE have had folk from as far away as California here to lunch with Sheila and myself.
Made many good friends from round the world.
Sapper Brian

Hi Brian,
I had asked a question on Walter Marlowes post and was wondering if I might ask you the same question?
I have cut and pasted the original question:
I was watching a current movie of which during an action seen more ammunition seemed to be expended than on D-Day itself. How often did you aim as opposed to just laying down a field of fire? It seems todays films show the "bad guys" hosing down the "good guys" with thousands of rounds and never hitting, while the "good guy" methodically snap shoots every one of the "bad guys".
I know this is just Hollywood, but were there times you just pointed in the direction of the enemy and emptied your rifle? Or did you use a very purposed aim?
John

Hi John.
One of the great difficulties of battle is knowing where the enmy fire is coming from. When I see soldiers emptying round after round into what could easily be empty space, I am astounded. First thing is to identify where?...What Direction? IF you can find the firing point? then you can open up with short bursts of Bren fire. Ir's no good keeping firing after the first. they will go to ground unless of course its a general offensive.

The English Battle practice still holds good, two groups one to keep the enemies heads down while the other advances, and then turn about.

My pet hate is fighting and information finding patrol's at night... So many times I see the TV men firing in all directions and I think what the hell are they doing? If the enemy is there.... you have to go get him.

The Americans tended to use the "Drench the area with fire" then walk in....But it does not work like that. The enmy goes to ground and pops up after ther barrage has shifted. I do know that some American units were completely nonplussed, when the enmy came back at them..... They never expected it.
Even better, they often retired back behind the lines so that our barrage landed on empty ground .Then move back into the forward positions.

Out on ther River Maas in Holland, we were sent out for days on end into the deserted villages on the flat wetlands. Usually, first there gets the best position, we tried to beat the enmy top it. Little villages entirely deserted. low bungalows where I could set up my Bren in a window and wait.

We used all sorts of barrages The Pepper pot was a favourite!!! There was a barrage so huge and expensive that it needed Government permission to fire it. That barrage was called "Pandemonium"

I always got picked to go out on these bloody silly stunts. I tried my very best to be around ...But invisible...All to no avail, they got me every bloody time. I had no wish to be a hero..NO way.... But I never mastered the art of invisibility
Sapper

Brian

The battledrills you used during an advance were they like you were instructed in battleschool?

Lane method, blobs, pepperpot etc?

I have a copy of Infantry training part VIII, fieldcraft, battledrill, section and platoon tactics. WO 1944

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'We march. The enemy is retreating in transport. We follow on foot.' Lt.Neil McCallum 5/7 Gordons 19th November 1942

Yes.. they were the standard battle practice. It was known as fire and move, Though to be honest we did not get a lot of battle training. I can assure anyone, ity does not take long to make a Battle Veteran

Oddly enough, the shortage of Sappers meant that I never hada home leave, The nearest I got to home, was sailing off the Isle of Wight. My first army leave was when I came out of hospital. a very long time after my stay in dock was over a year.
Cheers sapper

I may have posted this before? Bear with me if that is so.
.
The Gates of Hell.
This is no place for a Dorset boy!

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 box of an ambulance took us over the uneven 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. Yet, still this square steel box of an ambulance, trundled along over the broken, shelled and potholed, cobbled war time roads, with its precious load of three dead men and one nearly dead. 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 precariously on top of them, above head height, with just enough room inside the cupboard, still lying on the same stretcher that I had been on for many hours, during the journey the blood had soaked through everything, 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". 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 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 65 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”

Next day, still laying in my own thick, dried, and congealed blood that by now had firmly stuck me to the stretcher I was driven to Eindhoven airport and was flown back immediately to England in a Dakota ambulance plane, arriving at Croydon airport. Six men ran me across the tarmac at speed,,, straight into Croydon RAF Hospital. Straight down the corridor: into the operating theatre. I awoke in a clean bright ward. But covered in plaster from my toes to my chin. A complete body plaster cast. A plaster mummy! Spica! (how did they lever me off the congealed blood on that stretcher?)

That was followed by Penicillin injections, every six hours, for six weeks, night and day

Perhaps I should not write about the agony of war? I think it quite possible for these stories to upset those of a more sensitive nature? But with the 65th Anniversary upon us, perhaps it will serve to remind the younger generation of the sacrifices those men paid for our society, our way of life, and the freedom that we enjoy today.

A way of life and society that I am not willing to give feely to anyone. This freedom was earned by the blood and sacrifice of our sons!

I don’t want anyone to think that I am an old misery….Not me ” I enjoy life to the full, and luckily I suffer from that wonderful dry Dorset humour. My only regret is that I am unable to go out and spend everything on holidays in the sun.

Sapper

PS There is a sequel to this. Though not a happy one.

It always amazes me the attitude of WWII vets. I met a man who I later found out had 4 purple hearts. Shrapnel wounds each time, but always went back to his unit. When I found out I asked why he did not return home and his reply was he wasn't hit that bad.(One time required 3 months of recouperation.)
He always told me: "There were others hurt worse, and besides there were green kids that needed to be whipped into shape".
He was very caring, probably to a fault.

I remember when I was a boy, WW1 was something that happened in ancient history, though in fact it was only 30 years previously....What must my Veteran friends and myself look like to the youngsters today? 65 years on.....Methuselah?
Sapper

Sapper, please continue to write about what you did, saw and experienced. It jolts us all back to the reality of war.

__________________
Best Regards,
JW

I always appreciate what you write. It is only through the memories that you and other Veterans like Jack, Ron, Mr. Kirby, etc share that we are able to truly learn. Our imaginations are poor imitations for the realities you experienced. The freedoms I have were paid for by you and men like you - both those who survived and those who did not - and for every one of us who learns about your realities, there is a chance that we will be able to teach another. Please don't worry for our sakes on whether the memories you share are graphic or difficult to read. There are many who cannot appreciate the price paid without seeing/reading all the horror and agony.

I wish that those in positions of power both secular and non-secular worldwide were more widely-read and knowledgeable about the experiences by Veterans. Perhaps it would temper the courses of action they initiate for which the price will be made by our youngest and brightest.

I will be following some of your footsteps in NW Europe in the spring and I will be thinking of you, my Dad, and the others who served.

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Regards, Michelle

Oliver Goldsmith, "I love everything that's old: old friends, old times, old manners, old books, old wines."

Hi Greetings.... Always nice to hear from folk, wherever they are.

Los best wishes
Sapper

Out of the darkness.....

The Comradeship of Death.

After the hurricane of war has passed. There are no friends or foe.
Amongst the grotesque figures of the dead, no poppies ever grow.
For in that comradeship of death, wherein the mangled bodies lay,
Uniforms of khaki and grey, lay silent. Patiently waiting for decay.

Around the shell and mortar holes, in the killing zone they wait.
The trials of all the young men, now war has decided on their fate.
Pictures of family and children, mouldering and rotting in the rain.
At home the loss of loved ones, the agony of grieving, and of pain.

The comradeship of death has no enemies, for all of that is past.
Now they lay in a deathly hush. for them, peace has come at last.
Amongst the hedgerows, sad, but familiar khaki shapes are found.
Mother nature reclaims her sons, as they melt back in the ground.

Over the years their lost voices call “Remember me, call my name”
We are the brotherhood of death. of the land from whence we came
On short dark Summer nights, listen! hear the lonely voices call,
Beneath the Earth, the soft warm earth we lie, for now it is our pall.

When all the tears are shed, we still remain: the comradeship of death
Freedom is won by sacrifices. by men who fight, till their final breath.
No enemy has walked here upon, the beauty of Britain’s sacred Land.
Freedoms a gift, from the comradeship of deaths glorious heroic band.
Brian Guy October 2009/

Brian, I must be having allergies since I have had blurred vision while reading your poem. Thank you not only for your military service and sacrifice, but your keen way of making the horror and consequences of WWII seem real to us all.

Indeed, Freedom is won by sacrifices and I am so grateful that a whole generation of young men in the free world responded brilliantly and without hesitation in coming to Freedom's call. May it always be so!

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“The first lesson is that you can't lose a war if you have command of the air, and you can't win a war if you haven't.” - General Jimmy Doolittle