An account of most of World War Two as experienced by a resident of Lowestoft. News from Lowestoft during WW2 – Letters from Lowestoft Letters from Lowestoft 1942 – The letters - 1942
My Dad arrived in Lowestoft with 2nd Bttn, London Irish Rifles in May 1940: "..The British Army in France and Belgium was having a hard time. We were moved to the coast to join our division and to guard the English coastline at Lowestoft in Suffolk. We de-bussed at a deserted flat area and erected bell tents. Towards evening, we were marched in full battle array to the beach where we were fenced in by coils of wire. Captain Gibbs (OC G Coy) told us that we had to dig slit trenches. We were reassured that, if an invasion occurred from the sea, we only had to hold on for 10 minutes or so because six-inch naval guns were ranged upon our position. ‘What about us?,’ asked an NCO. ‘Oh! Just take cover in your slit trenches,’ was the reply.” “We had been supplied with empty bottles, pieces of rag and large cans of petrol and were let into the secret of how to manufacture Molotov cocktails, an anti-tank weapon used by the Republicans in the Spanish civil war. No one reminded our trainer that the Republicans lost.” “Standing-to all night in full battle order was followed at full daylight by building work. There was a small, antiquated concrete mixing machine close by. This was started up and we used sand and gravel mixed with bags of Portland cement to make our first dragon’s tooth anti-tank barriers. We were then marched back to camp for breakfast. But instead of a rest after the labours of the night and morning, we were trained. This included our itinerary of drill, marching and weapon training. That evening, we were not marched to the beach but dressed in full battle order and rested in our tents. We lay on our haversacks with mess tins pressing into our backs and our respirators on our chests restricting our breathing. At dusk and dawn, we were on our feet and looking for the invaders.” “At dusk, I was posted in the thickening gloom on guard away from my fellows. I heard what I thought was the word: ‘Gas!’. My greatest fear had come to pass: a gas attack. Following well-taught rules, I held my breath and covered my face with the mask. Standing there with bayonet fixed, I was confronted by a massive figure, obviously proof against gas, as he was not wearing a gas mask. ‘Halt!,’ I commanded in a much muffled voice. ‘Who goes there?’ A clear voice said: ‘Take that bloody thing off so I can hear you.’ It was Captain Gibbs. He asked me why I had put on my respirator. I told him that I thought I heard that terrifying word. Once again, I was not condemned but applauded for being alert.” “A few days later, there was an invasion; not by bloodthirsty Germans but gangs of navvies with a massive machine which they proceeded to erect on a kind of stage. Wooden buildings appeared with notices on them. One read Advances. We, grossly underpaid and overworked on a maximum of two bob a day, were to see men who had not yet done a stroke of work lining up for fists full of money.” “It would be some days before a block-house and more dragon’s teeth would enrich the landscape of that seaside resort. We were receiving more authentic news which was backed up by the appearance of small craft with men in blue navy uniforms and peaked caps. They were some of those who had played such a crucial part in the evacuation of men from the British Expeditionary Force and other Allied troops from Dunkirk. We also heard how the Queen Victoria’s Rifles (QVR) had been liquidated at Calais.Originally, our battalion had been selected to go to Calais with the other two rifle regiments in the 47th Division, but the QVR had claimed the honour. They had paid a terrible price......”
