Sword Beach to Bremen., A Veterans tale. 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

 

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

 

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.

 

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!

 

Hello Brian,

I've spent the last two hours reading through your postings. Firstly, my enduring thanks for your service during those difficult times, and secondly my thanks for you posting about your experiences.

My Grandad served with the 2nd Battalion of the East Yorkshire Regiment and so will undoubtedly have seen much of the same action that you did, having gone ashore on Sword and fighting through to Bremen, despite being seriously wounded along the way. He's no longer with us unfortunately, but he would never talk about his experiences, despite numerous questions from an enquiring younger self. Your recollections go a long way to explaining why he probably didn't want to talk about it, whilst at the same time filling in a lot of the blanks.

All the best, and I look forward to reading plenty more!

Matt

 

Hi there

Im only up to page 5 !! Very moving detail at times. Im so pleased you have done this as it must be painfull to re live those memories.

God bless you i wish i could buy you a pint!

Keep well

 

I would like to say a huge thank you for writing this for us younger generations to read and understand.

Sadly my grandfather died in November last year. He would talk for many an hour to myself about his pictures. Himself with trunks saying how they used the radiator water to wash feet and boil eggs. His first picture of him with all his pals , to his later one with many of them missing.

one thing that my grandfather always said was that the films made later of DDay landings were wrong. The films show the water going upto the waist, my grandfather said for many it was neck high. He talked a little about having to leave men crying out for help as they were told stop for nothing. He did'nt say much more as he said he lost so many friends.

He was a driver in France, and stayed on after the war for a short while.

 

Hi Friends.
Thank you for your postings, I am always pleased to hear from, and get in touch with the readers. The East Yorks. I saw action with them many times, and I have a great deal of respect for them... Brave lads..everyone.
Sapper