Someone was Smiling on Me

In May 1940 I was in action with my regiment the 1st Medium Regiment Royal Artillery in Belgium.

We were equipped with 6 inch Howitzers, which had iron-shod wheels as they did in the First World War. My job was OP (Observation Post) wireless operator. Our party consisted of one officer, Captain Jackson; our driver named Bloomfield and myself. Our vehicle was a Bren gun carrier. I sat behind the driver with my feet out straight and Captain Jackson was in front beside the driver. My wireless set was on a plaform to my right; it was a transmitter/receiver.

We were on our way to occupy an OP and Capt. Jackson decided on using an empty farmhouse on fairly high ground. It was the only building for miles with no cover whatsoever. Much to my alarm, we stopped and the Capt. went upstairs leaving us outside - me on the set in the carrier and the driver who lay under the carrier between the tracks. I felt rather uneasy because the building was exposed.

Then the Fire orders started to come down for me to transmit to our gun position. The operator there was my old friend Ralph Birch with whom I had trained back in Portsmouth - an excellent operator. Soon after our orders were received at the guns, the rounds of HE (high exposive) began to fall on some enemy troop concentrations. We were a crack regiment and our rounds were accurate.

Pretty soon it started to rain, so I covered myself and the set with my groundsheet and carried on. Suddenly, it felt as though a house had fallen on me. For some time, I think, I blacked out. I don't know for how long. I then felt the dead weight being lifted off me. Capt Jackson and Bloomfield were quickly removing the bricks and rubble off me until I could see what had happened. Fortunately, I was not badly hurt.

The enemy had spotted our obvious OP and opened up with trench mortars - deadly weapons, which made a soul-destroying noise. I remember the first thing the Capt said was "Is the set OK?" It was not, and I told him so. He was apparently not concerned how I was. Without hesitation he decided to return to the gun position for a replacement (about 10 miles away).

We travelled as fast as we could over rough country and arrived at the gun position. There, some men were detailed to change the set and I was told to get a mess-tin full of tea. I can't remember when I had last had food or drink.

Whilst the lads were changing the two wooden batteries from the small platform behind my position in the carrier they pointed out two bullet holes right through them - two inches from where I had sat! Two lucky escapes in one day. Someone was smiling on me. We returned to another OP and some hours after that received orders to Cease Fire.

Following that is another set of circumstances prior to the 50k trek to Dunkirk.

W D Gough BEF Ex 1st Medium Regiment Royal Artillery, then aged 19.

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