Machine-gunning of the school

I also recall a lone German aircraft machine-gunning the school just before lunch.  I was working for F.J. Mount & Son in their chalk quarry at the time and two of us got under the tip truck we were loading as quick as we could as we thought we were being gunned.

Another occasion of German enemy action in Brandon was another lone plane on one evening before dark, when the noise came from the area of the river or railway line behind the council houses on the Thetford Rd. It was Bill Inns’ house on Thetford Road that caught the brunt of the bomb and if my memory is correct that same night the damage to their pantry spoilt some food so they got some

extra ration coupons from the Ministry of Food to replace it.  The house I lived in, 149 Thetford Road, still has a pock mark from shrapnel of that bomb, also our linen line that ran down the garden path was multi strand wire and one place on it shrapnel had cut it so only one strand was left.  Then I was called up at 18 years old and spent 1 year in the Army before the war ended.

When Norwich was blitzed we could see the red glow in the sky at night from the fires, albeit faintly, nonetheless it could be seen.

Conscripted into active service

I was happy about being called up and was offered deferment for, I think, six months and then after that then to apply for a further six months.  That was because I was working at Mount’s Lime and Whiting Works at the time.  The lime part was tied up with agriculture you see, and food was a very important industry simply because of the shortage of it.  Anyway I didn’t take up the offer as my friends were all getting called up and wouldn’t I have been a ‘Drongo’ to stay behind?  Another reason was that I had always wanted to join the Navy and this was a good opportunity to get in because every one had a choice as to which arm of the services you wanted to enter into … trouble is, ask for something and you get the opposite and this is what happened to me!  When the first weeks of training were completed we were given a choice as to what branch of the Army we preferred, i.e. cook-house, artillery, tanks, Bren gun carriers, support groups – such as heavy machine guns – or large mortars.  My application was for the service corps as a driver.  So what did I get?  Well, the exact opposite … the bloody foot sloggers, infantry!!!!

Training

When I was first called up I had to report to a barracks in York, which was the home of the Rifle Brigade and all conscripts had to wear a special hat badge, but we were also given the honour of wearing the Rifle Brigade’s badge.

After the initial training I was posted to the Suffolk Regiment at the Gibraltar Barracks in Bury St. Edmunds for the next lot of training and it was a good change to have instructors who spoke with a Suffolk accent, also to be able to get home at weekends.  I used to hitch hike home as soon as we were off duty and get back on the Eastern Counties bus on Sunday nights.   During training at Bury St. Edmunds an instructor, a sergeant, was killed when he was training us on 2-inch mortars with live ammunition. He would only take one recruit at a time to the firing emplacement as a precaution in case of accidents and what was supposed to happen was that the squaddie would slide a mortar bomb down the barrel then hit a firing pin and fire instantly.  On this occasion it failed to do that, so he straight away slid another in on top. Well you can guess what the result may be when it hit the head of the first bomb which was primed to explode on impact.  The result was horrendous.

The next lot of training was called ‘Division Training’ where we went to Weybourne, on the north Norfolk coast.  It was there that I met up with an old school mate, Alfie Winter from Town Street and we bivouacked together with two ground sheets joined to make a low tent for two.  That was on a grueling 100-mile route march that took us four days and poor old Alfie went on sick parade before we finished it and I never saw him again.  From my time at York to the final at Weybourne was a total of six months and at the end of that period we were given embarkation leave.

When the leave was over I had to report to Wells-Next-The-Sea and the next thing I knew I was in France and on a train to Belgium.  Upon arrival there I was put into a holding unit and from that unit we were put into any Regiment that needed replacements for their dead and wounded and that’s how I finished my Army life in the Seaforth Highlanders.  The training was pretty tough for a young bloke who had never left home before and naturally there was home sickness, but gradually you get over that. There was the 100-mile route march that had to be done in four days and that included a few little exercises each day.  We were taught about war and what it was like, such as enemy booby traps and having mustard gas dabbed on your hand so we knew what it was like.  When you finally got where the action was it was nothing like we were told it would be and I think the training was just to make you obey orders with out question.  During training we had one lad who was a real country bumpkin, he regularly urinated in his boots through the night.

Crossing the Rhine

How did I feel about going into active service? It was like water off a duck’s back until you find your self amongst the noise of battle and the sight of blood & guts, and then I was well and truly scared.  I only knew of one guy to go AWOL and run away and he was brought back, but he ran off again, and what happened to him after that I don’t know as I never saw him again.

The crossing of the River Rhine was my baptism of fire, and although most of my time was spent doing what the army called “advancing to make contact”, when you did make contact you either fought or made a strategic withdrawal which ever you were told to do.  We marched up to the south bank of the Rhine in single file through the night, which took us through the rows of heavy artillery, which when they fired without warning, frightened us to death, although they were giving Jerry a good blasting. When we got to the bank we had to wait until dawn and then we were put into vessels not much bigger than rowing boats that had outboard motors.  These were driven by Royal Engineers and some motors failed on the way so those poor sods just drifted down stream and we never knew what happened to them and anyway we were not being fired on.  When we reached the south bank we clambered up to the top only to find dead Germans all along the top of the embankment.  We had been saved a lot by the Commandos who had gone over in the darkness and had garroted or knifed them all while they were still in their slit trenches.  So our lot was a pretty easy start as we advanced and made contact.  Then to our surprise we saw all these planes towing gliders in the sky and the sky was just full of them.  It was a few days before we got to where they had landed and what a sight that was.  They had all crash landed and after seeing that I was glad to have crossed the Rhine in a rowing boat.  Our unit did see a concentration camp and that English guy that says it never happened is off his rocker because it certainly did happen!