My War — Part 3

This story was submitted to the People’s War site by Roger Marsh of the ‘Action Desk — Sheffield’ Team on behalf of Robert M. Crossley, and has been added to the site with the author’s permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

My War — Part 3
By
Robert M. Crossley

We took over one of the vacant Bofor guns on a caisson forming part of the outer wall of the prefabricated harbour. Many of the caissons had been badly damaged on ‘D’ plus 13 when there had been one of the worst June storms for forty years, but even damaged, they were to function successfully in providing that breakwater that they were designed for.

The German Air force was being mastered by our R.A.F., but we did experience one big raid on the harbour, and with so much armour that was amassed in the Arromanches area, the barrage we put up was really spectacular, and said to rival that well known barrage in the Western Desert by the 8th Army a year ago. It was now a hot summer and there seemed to be dust everywhere, especially in the badly damaged town. There were signs everywhere, expertly erected by the R.A.S.C.

I will never forget the daily scene at Arromanches. It was a hive of activity. There were three steel roadways an pontoons leading from what was a promenade out to the pier heads. There were ships unloading day and night and the supplies being taken by lorry from the piers to the town by way of these steel roads. On one steel road which was reserved for outward traffic, there was always that fleet of army ambulances, taking the injured out to the hospital ships, waiting near the pier-heads. It was a continual traffic of troops, tanks and supplies coming in, and the sick and injured returning the other way bound for home.

There were occasions when we travelled inland on various duties; and I will never forget the Falaise Gap area, and towns and villages that come to mind such as Caumont, St. Lo, Tilly and Villers Bocage, all reduced to a pile of rubble. What was not destroyed by bombing from the air was seen off by rockets, cannon, shell, or bulldozed by our tanks. I remember in one farmyard, counting over eleven dead horses that had been piled upon each other, and coming upon the many temporary graves of the fallen, buried hastily with some kind of makeshift cross at the head. Many were left with their boots sticking out (Later of course the War Graves Commission was to collect them all and take them to a central point). We all had identity discs-that never left our necks. We were soon to leave Arromanches and become a mobile unit, each detachment being supplied with a Bofor Gun and towing truck, the truck having seating for each member of the crew.

We were still in 30 Corps, with the white boar, on our sleeves, but became attached to the 1st Canadian Army. I never thought when leaving Arromanches and the harbour, that in forty years time I would be revisiting the town on several occasions to view the model of the harbour in the fine Arromanches Museum.

We followed the advance North, via Caen, Lisieux, Rouen, Amiens, Lille, and into Belgium. Passing through one Belgian town, which had been taken by the Canadians, I remember that we were the first British soldiers that the inhabitants had seen and in the square, the women and children gave to us a piece of black, yellow and red ribbon to pin on our tunics.
The advance troops had now taken Antwerp and we were to take up positions in defence of shipping in the Scheldt Estuary, as the Allies were now to use the deep-water port of Antwerp for supplies instead of the far distant port at Arromanches.

Columns of German prisoners, being taken south from the front line, were passing us daily and we were given ten of them to put to work sandbagging, so as to make us a temporary gun emplacement. I remember in true British style giving them plenty of food and cigarettes, and most of them were pleased to be out of the fighting. The ones that we got were very young, arrogant, and sure that they would still win the war. I remember that there was many an argument and several ears clipped. During this period we had our gun positioned in Antwerp, Bruges, St. Pauwels and St. Nicholas, but there were very few nights in action. Next it was to Terneuzen at the mouth of the Scheldt, where we could see, through our glasses, the Germans on the Walcheren Islands that were opposite. They had been abandoned by the fast advancing Allies, to be mopped up at a later date. They were stranded and could go nowhere.

Our gun was eventually sited on the farm of the Vanden Bulchs, who had three daughters and a son, and the family, though none spoke any English, were very good to us. In exchange for our food they gave us the warmth of their large kitchen on evenings that we were free. It was here that we spent the Christmas of 1944.

Nearby was the Ghent Ship Canal which ran from the Scheldt into Ghent and was already being used by the Allies to bring in supplies. There was a procession of those large Liberty ships up and down the canal and I remember three of us spending Boxing Day on board one Liberty ship at the invitation of the American crew.

By April, with Berlin taken, the end of the war was in sight, and I was granted 9 days leave in the United Kingdom. I was conveniently placed and sailed for England from Ostend. It was exactly one year since my last leave and the sight of my family. To my parents it must have been a great relief to see me again, and to be assured that I was likely to come through the war safely. At home I remember my parents showing me the letter that they had received from the War Office reporting me 'missing' earlier that June.

Returning to my unit in the same area, after a wonderful leave, it was only a few weeks before the Allied Forces realised victory, and V.E. Day was on the 9th May, 1945. We had a big parade in Axel with the salute taken by a Brigadier named Horwood, and were later addressed by the 30 Corps Commander, Lt. Gen. Brian Horrocks. I remember in that same week that the elderly. Dutch Queen, Wilhelmina, visited Axel, having just returned to her country from England.

In July or August we moved in convoy into Germany, via Munster, Minden, Hanover, and Hildesheim, and were to be stationed East of Alfeld at a priory in the centre of Lamspringe. Here we were to lose our Bofor guns and adopt an infantry role in the Army of Occupation.
We were all to be granted a 12days leave in the U.K. My AB 64, which was the Army Pay book with records of leave etc. shows my leave was from the 28th Sept. to the 9th October, 1945, and it was the leave on which I met my future wife Sheila, at a dance in the Princess Hall, Bingley. It was a wonderful, well-timed leave for me.

The previous month had seen the first atom bomb dropped on Hiroshima, which brought to an end Japan’s prolongation of hostilities against the U.S.A., and we seemed bound for world peace at last. Atlee had just succeeded Churchill as Prime Minister, and three new shows had become popular on the radio: Richard Murdoch and Kenneth Horne in "Much Binding on the Marsh", Charlie Chester and Arthur Haynes in " Stand, Easy" and Erie Barker, and Pearl Hackney in "HMS Waterlogged". Picture Post was the most popular magazine on the bookstalls.

Back to Germany I went, which was a country in disarray, The Control Commission had taken over every large city, and there were displaced persons everywhere. At Lamspringe we were not far from the Russian border and I recall the long passenger trains passing through the district from the East into the occupied Allied territory. The trains were packed with displaced persons of all nationalities. They were full inside and people were hanging on to the sides, with as many sat on every carriage roof together with their possessions. It was an unbelievable sight. People obviously trying to get as far west as they could, and all were homeless.

Whilst in Lamspringe I was to see the beautiful Hartz Mountains, and visit the medieval town of Gaslar which was on the border.

Part of our new role as infantry was to guard strategic points and also to track down the many high ranking German officers, Gestapo members etc., that had disappeared and gone into hiding. Then one or two weeks later, I remember that we had a very unpleasant job to do. At about midnight we would all climb into trucks and then travel miles to surround a selected village in the area. Nobody was allowed to leave the village and we had to search every house, garage, barn and outhouse in the village throughout the night, for escaping German officers or members of the Gestapo.

Each armed with a rifle, six of us would take one house at a time, awaken the inhabitants and assemble them in the sitting room, whilst we checked their identities and searched the premises thoroughly. If in trouble with the language, or suspecting an unidentifiable resident, we could call upon an interpreter attached to our Company, who was positioned in a central point of the village and readily accessible. Our man was a Belgian Army Sergeant who had seen two of his family killed in his back garden by the Gestapo in 1940, so he was a man, ruthless, and with little mercy.

I remember many a night, in those sitting rooms, the German women and children in their nightdresses, screaming, half asleep, not under-standing what was happening and what was our purpose. And I remember seeing many a man being led out of a cottage, put on a truck, and driven away with others for questioning. This nightly ritual seemed to never end. On arriving back at the priory at dawn, we used to have a meal then go to bed for eight hours, with the rest of the day free until midnight. Then it was off again, to another village. This work was going on all over Germany by many units as many war criminals were on the loose.

It was an unpleasant job and I will never forget the noise and the hysteria on every occasion. The banging of the doors because everyone was well off to sleep, the raising of windows and German voices, lights going on, suddenly lighting up a very dark road. The screaming of those German villagers who must have assumed that they were going to be harmed. We looked under every bed, searched every attic and loft, pantry, hut, and outhouse. The local school and church were also searched. Many a time the village's leading citizen or vicar was taken into a house to verify the householder’s story, and it took all night for the Company to deal with one small village.

One week, Bill Farrell and I, and one other, had to spend every night sat in a beautifully furnished detached bungalow in a residential part of Alfeld. It was unoccupied and owned by a Gestapo General who had disappeared. It was thought that he might return to his home in the dead of night to hide there or to retrieve some of his possessions. He never came, but I remember that we looked through his photograph albums and identified him as a General who rode in the car behind Hitler at those large Nazi parades in Berlin. We had strict instructions not to touch or disturb anything in the house and I remember that we took it in turns to watch out through the net curtain.

Alfeld was a small town only a few miles from Lamspringe, and my only other memories of the town were the very good 1945 Xmas Dinner that we had at Regimental headquarters there, and mingling with the German population and choir in the snow covered square singing 'Silent Night' at midnight. Perhaps because of orders from a higher command, the next few months in the area became very enjoyable. There was less discipline, everything was more relaxed, and we all had more free time.

Lamspringe was a pretty village surrounded by lovely countryside with each road leading out of the village lined with cherry trees, and I was never to eat so many cherries in such a short time ever again. There were one or two shops, and the large priory where we were billeted was just off the one long main street. It was a time when every week another group would be saying farewell to us before they boarded a truck on their way home to be demobbed.

By the March of 1946 it was learned that the Regiment was to be disbanded and we were all to be posted to other units to await demobilisation. My turn for demobilisation was also drawing near and I was posted to Hamburg to be attached to the Royal Military Police. I had shown some clerical ability it was said, so I was the sole-member of the Company to be sent to the R.M.P, as a clerk, to serve out my remaining four weeks of active service.

Arriving in Hamburg alone with my kit, having said goodbye to all my pals, I found myself billeted at the top of Shell house, on the side of the Alster, with wonderful views over Hamburg. Shell House, obviously owned previously by the Shell Oil Co., was a very large modern building, with four lifts on each side of the large marble foyer. I remember that they were the open kind, no doors, moving slowly, and you just stepped on or off as you reached your floor. The building was used by many administration bodies, consuls, etc., with the Royal Military Police Office on about the 6th floor. I remember, when entering or leaving, I was always saluting some high ranking officer of any of our services.

I remember walking along the world famous Reperbaum, which had been badly damaged by our bombers, and whilst there, I watched the Kiwis play the B.A.O.R. Combined Services team at rugby in the Bahrenfeld Stadium. My work as a clerk was the recording of the city’s prostitutes, and registering the employees of all the brothels on to cards, which I typed, though I still wonder what value it all was. I remember, making good friends with a local Hamburg policeman who was attached to our Military Police and worked in my office.

On the 23rd.April, 1946, I was on my way back to England, and to be demobbed the next day at Fulford Barracks, York. I was issued at the centre with a light grey striped suit and other clothing, and handed in all my army kit and uniform. I would be put on Z Reserve.
I had been in uniform and on active service in the Army for the last six years and eight months, but I travelled, home to Bingley that, same day A CIVILIAN AGAIN.

LOOKING BACK
Looking back over the war years and my service in the army, I must consider myself very fortunate. Though frightening at certain periods with sights that were sad and sordid, most of the years were spent safe and secure. There were days when I was drenched to the skin, and tired and hungry. Days with sore feet and aching back but there was never anything that did harm to my body. On enlisting I was medically graded Al, and on discharge, much fitter and healthier, I was again graded Al.

Always a lover of travel, I was lucky to have been stationed in almost every county of the British Isles before serving on the Continent, and I even saw some of the country from the air on my very first flight in an aeroplane. In English and Scottish bars I had mixed with Americans, Canadian, the Free French, Australians, New Zealanders, and Polish and Czechoslovakian airmen. At the army's expense I had seen the cities of Brussels, Antwerp, Hanover, Hamburg, Essen, Cologne, and attended concerts: in Brunswick and Halle.

I had lived on and worked on one of the wonders of the Second World War, the prefabricated artificial port called 'Mulberry', and had seen the damage and devastation of Normandy. I had lived intimately with the people of the Netherlands for a long period, wearing their Dutch clogs in a cold winter and spending time on their large river going barges. I had seen the notorious camp at Belsen on the heath, dined on an American cargo ship, and had smoked and drunk Schnapps with the displaced persons from the east of every nationality.

Having accepted army discipline! I learned the value of teamwork and comradeship and enjoyed the good humour that went with it. Proud to have had some small part through those 'valiant years', I was richer for the experience but sad at the loss of so many good friends. I was awarded the T.A. Long Service & Good Conduct medal, 1939-45 Star, the France and Germany Star, the Defence Medal, and the 1939-45 Victory medal.

Pr-BR

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