Have you looked at the BBC Peoples War Archives lately ?

Lt.Whitfield and the butterfly spring (15)
In my story “Lt.Whitfield’s directing debut" (A4268658) I had the pleasure of introducing you to Lt.Whitfield. I’d like to tell you about another episode in which he played a leading role.
We were parked in this nameless field in Sicily, just outside a similarly nameless village.
Ted Dudley and I had just stripped down our Johnson Chore Horse preparatory to carrying out maintenance , and that otherwise excellent two stroke battery charger was now laying in pieces on the tailboard of our 15cwt wireless truck.
Suddenly Ted exclaimed 'S*d it !' and I knew what had happened even before he had a chance to explain.
The tiny butterfly spring that normally sat in the carburettor had jumped off the tail-board, was now somewhere in the grass below and Ted and I we were now in deep s**t. The engine could not function without the spring.
You need to understand that the afore-mentioned butterfly spring was only about 3/8th of an inch in diameter (sorry, I can't measure in metric ) and we did not have a spare having already lost it on a similar operation. The spring was now off the tailboard, in the surrounding scrub and as far as we were concerned anyway, gone forever.
Just at that moment Lt.Whitfield came ambling by (did I mention that he was rather portly) and spotting that something was amiss demanded to know what was up.
One of us said ‘We’ve lost the butterfly spring Sir’.
“Nonsense” he said , “you havn’t lost it, you just don’t know where it is”
He then took charge.
“Where was the spring when you last saw it ?”
“ How far do you think it could have jumped ?”
“What does it look like, what colour is it ?
Having been given the necessary data he then made us mark a three foot circle with minefield tape, shift the truck forward and then BURN the grass within the inner circle.
He then made us sift the remaining sand through cheese-cloth obtained from the cook house and empty the examined waste OUTSIDE the magic circle.
I can’t remember how long the operation took but to our utter amazement we ‘found’ the missing spring !.
Our emotions on making the discovery were mixed.
Gratitude ? certainly, he had virtually saved our bacon. Chagrin ? that's for sure, nobody likes to be made to look like a fool, but, to his everlasting credit , Lt.Whitfield only said ‘I told you it wasn’t lost’ and then ambled away again , no doubt to tell the rest of the officer’s mess how he had just solved another problem.
Please Lt.Whitfield, tell me you are still around and I will buy you a much deserved drink.
Ex-Driver/Op Goldstein.R, 14300260, 84 Bty, 49th Light AAA Rgt. RA

 

Lt.Whitfield's directing debut (16)
The campaign in Sicily had been sucessfully concluded and we were waiting for our next move, the invasion of Italy.
Someone at Regimental level had decided that the Batteries should put on their own concert parties to 'entertain the troops' and young Lt.Whitfield had drawn the short straw, he was now 84 Battery Entertainments Officer.
In a moment of madness I had volunteered to play on a battered 'joanna' and other fools had likewise offered to sing, tell jokes or tell monologues but all this was not enough for Lt.Whitfield who obviously considered that this was his moment for show business glory.
“What we are going to do” he proudly told us ('us' being his not over-enthusiastic band of volunteers and pressed men) “is to finish the first half of the show with every one on stage singing “Come landlord fill the flowing bowl until it doth run over”.
“The clever part” he confidently continued “is that whilst this is all going on, we will have other chaps coming down the aisles dishing out mugs of vino, which I will organise”.
Came the night, the show went like a dream and we duly sang ‘Come landlord fill the flowing bowl’ as though we meant it.
Bang on cue, the mugs of vino were brought down the aisles to rapturous applause.
One slight hitch… the vino was in such quantities that we never got to start the second half of the show but dear Lt.Whitfield has gone down into Army folk lore history,mine anyway!

 

A simple entry of "D-Day " in the Archives search box offered the following links. I've only listed 10 here but, as you can see, they are fairly representative.

Have a look at the "What does the D in D-Day mean" thread and see the lengthy response it got

Your 4783 search results for "D-day":
BBC - WW2 People's War - Being Conscripted in WW2 - by Doug Cochrane

That was on D-day, D+1 we That was on D-day, D+1 we assembled for the move in land to clear up some stragglers, of which we picked up two and handed to the intelligence corp.
www.bbc.co.uk/ww2peopleswar/stories/58/a6485358.shtml
BBC - WW2 People's War - The Land Army, D-Day and Double Summer Time

The date was 6 June 1944, known subsequently as D-Day, the day on which British and American forces invaded northern France. The flying bombs came over from June till September, night and day.
www.bbc.co.uk/ww2peopleswar/stories/99/a2219799.shtml
BBC - WW2 People's War - My war service.It was six years, just!

Then, I was on the move again to Wanstead Flats to a wait D-Day. A previous contributor informed that the initial date for D-Day was supposedly 5th June 1944.).
www.bbc.co.uk/ww2peopleswar/stories/29/a4277829.shtml
BBC - WW2 People's War - D-Day: The Very First to Arrive

Remembering the little things I have often been asked for my impressions and experiences of D-Day and the days that followed. I was looking over the side one day when I saw a pipe floating past.
www.bbc.co.uk/ww2peopleswar/stories/02/a2372302.shtml
BBC - WW2 People's War - Excerpts from a 'Memoir'

MY MEMORIES OF D-DAY The 5th of June 1944 was the day my third child was expected. At one o' clock there was a very moving broadcast called "D-Day, The Day."
www.bbc.co.uk/ww2peopleswar/stories/62/a3818162.shtml
BBC - WW2 People's War - My Wartime Wedding

The 3rd June was a warm sunny day. I stayed on with Ted until the Tuesday, which was indeed D-Day, a day we all remember.
www.bbc.co.uk/ww2peopleswar/stories/27/a3129527.shtml
BBC - WW2 People's War - Foundry, Fire-watching and Fireworks

My mother said she knew when D-day day was about to take place, because a few days beforehand the whole place became a beehive of activity.
www.bbc.co.uk/ww2peopleswar/stories/45/a7718745.shtml
BBC - WW2 People's War - 'What does the D in D-Day mean?' - the Answer

D - [minus] 1 would be the day before an operation commenced. D + 1 would be the day after D-Day, or the second day of the operation.
www.bbc.co.uk/ww2peopleswar/stories/45/a2714645.shtml
BBC - WW2 People's War - Strawberries

My father was in the Royal Navy and during D-Day he was involved in the landing of a contingent of Scottish
www.bbc.co.uk/ww2peopleswar/stories/72/a2735372.shtml
BBC - WW2 People's War - Don Jennings Experiences of the War

Getting nearer to D-Day (about a month) we had moved our workshops. The ship moved 15 days after D-day and we landed on the beach through the water and up onto the sand.
www.bbc.co.uk/ww2peopleswar/stories/14/a2700514.shtml

 

Ron Hi

Your tales of Italy and Sicily fit in well as I am currently reading the diary of a gunnery officer in the 51st Highland Div in Sicily and Italy, have also been in N Africa.


Tony

 

Tony,

For 51st Highland Div in Sicily read Bitter Victory by Carlo D'Este, indexed on page 646.

Colin.

 

Colin

For 51st Highland Div in Sicily read Bitter Victory by Carlo D'Este, indexed on page 646.




&, on the same page, lots about the 78th Div

Ron

 

Not strictly the BBC People's War Archives but definitely the BBC -History is the following:


Whilst writing, if you like animated maps, have a look at this one in the BBC WW2 Archives:
BBC - History - Animated Map: The Italian Campaign

I always refer youngsters to this particular map because although it is very simplified it does show very graphically the flow of the war in Italy.

The other animated maps are also well worth a look.

Ron

 

Return to Cassino (17)
I was last here between February and May in 1944.

I was then a humble wireless operator in the 49th Light Ack Ack Rgt, which at the time was attached to the New Zealand Div.

My Battery, the 84th, was busy with three roles. Laying a smoke screen at Speedy Express Highway, providing air cover for the New Zealanders and, when it had nothing else better to do, being loaned out to the Infantry as stretcher-bearers.

To get back however to today, the 9th of May 2005.

It was 10:34 am, I had just arrived by train from Rome, this time with Nita, my wife and partner of fifty-five years and we had come here to do a job.

Back home in London I had volunteered to take photos of headstones for any relatives or friends of the fallen and about half a dozen people on the BBC website had taken me up on the offer.
In addition, I had been approached by AJEX (Association of Jewish Ex-Service Men and Women) to perform a similar service for them and in particular to bring their own records up to date.
Shortly after arriving at Cassino station I had negotiated with a local cabbie to take us first to the Abbey, perched high above us, wait for us there and then take us to the British Cemetery which was about a half mile outside of town.

The road to the Abbey snaked furiously ever upwards and what with the rather ancient taxi we were glad to arrive at the top. The Abbey itself was very imposing, stark, white and almost prison-like in appearance. There was however a huge PAX sign over its portals and who could argue with that sentiment?

Fifteen minutes was enough for us, we had work to do down below.

At the cemetery below visitors were arriving by coach and car.
In deference to the fact that I was visiting hallowed ground and conscious of the respect that was due to the fallen I was suitably attired with a black beret, regimental tie and a full set of medals. As a direct result of this, when Nita and I started our research, groups of people were coming over to us, asking us what we were doing and whether or not I personally had been involved in the battle for Cassino some sixty one years ago.
They also spoke of their own losses and told of relatives they had come to visit. Several people said, “Can I shake your hand?”. At first this shook and worried me but then I realised that I was acting as a representative, albeit a poor one, of those 4000 men who lay around me and I was pleased to be of some small service

It was starting to get very hot and the Cemetery is huge, Helped by Nita I took photos of some 25 headstones and was able to make detailed notes for use by AJEX.

Despite the research I had done back in London it was not the easiest of tasks to make sure that we were not missing specific grave sites. The Cemetery is very functional and there are no seats to be found or watering points for elderly visitors.

By 1.45 pm, the time I had arranged for our cab to pick us up, we were both mentally and physically shattered and my earlier plans to visit a small town called Carovilla (where I had been stationed in 1944) were sensibly abandoned. We trudged back to the Cemetery gates and were glad to soon see our returning taxi.

On the train back to Rome I had a chance to discuss with Nita what my feelings had been on returning to Cassino and what it was like to have lived under the shadow of the Monastery.

Sixty-one years after the event there is still talk as to whether it was right or not to have bombed the Monastery and whether or not the Germans had used its position as an observation tower.
Speaking purely for myself and not owning to any military research expertise, I have but one comment to make based on personal experience.
We were down below, the Monastery was up there above us.
If we moved during daylight hours we were promptly shelled and a large number of those who’s graves we had seen today had been killed in that manner.
I saw the Americans bomb the Monastery and along with many of my comrades had mentally cheered their efforts.
I was glad to be able to go back to Cassino.
I will not be returning again.

 

Charlie 4 is not answering my signals (18)

Every time I say to myself ‘This really has to be the last story you’re going to submit’ up pops another vivid memory of my time with the 4th QOH and I hurry to my computer to get it down on file.

This particular memory was not recorded in my personal wartime diary but subsequent reference to the Regimental Diaries of the period in question point to April 13th 1945 as being the most likely day on which the events took place.

As I have pointed out elsewhere in "Joining the 4th Queen’s Own Hussars" (A2310003) one of the Squadron Sergeant Major’s jobs in the armoured column was to find and shepherd any 'lost sheep' back to the Sqdrn’s lines. At daybreak on every morning that the 1st Armoured Brigade column moved off, Control Station at RHQ would ask everyone on the net to ‘Report my signals’. This would be followed immediately by each station on the net in turn reporting the signal strength at which they were receiving Control, usually strength 4 to 5 out of a possible 5. During the day, as things hotted up, Control would not bother to ask for signal strengths unless they were having problems in calling up a station.

On this particular day, after about an hour of action, one of our Sherman Kangaroos (Infantry carrying tanks) had failed to respond to Control’s signals and Busty Thomas (on who’s Stuart tank I was wireless operator) was ordered to find out what had happened.

The Stuart M3 tank, unofficially and affectionately known as a ‘Honey’, had been my first surprise when I joined the 4th QOH.

During its glory days in the 8th Army desert campaign it had possessed a turret and a 37 mm gun. Now it had been ignominiously stripped of its ‘heavy’ armament and by removing its turret had been made into a glorified recce vehicle, not unlike its counterpart, the Bren Gun Carrier.

Anyway, our Kangaroos were carrying infantry of the London Irish Rifles who would be dropped off nearer the Santerno bridgehead where they would then be called upon to perform whatever the PBI (Poor Bloody Infantry) had been lumbered with.

The tank that was not responding, lets call him Charlie 4, as I can’t remember his actual call sign, would have been carrying at least a troop of the LIRs and we started scanning our surroundings to see if we could spot the culprit. It seemed like only minutes before we saw this lone tank in the middle of a field to our left.
Busty told Hewie to pull up alongside the stranded vehicle, which was soon accomplished. Because of the difference in size of our Stuart and the Kangaroo I was reminded of a tender pulling alongside a destroyer but was soon pulled out of my daydream when Busty said to me ‘Have a shufti and see what’s happened to them’.

I clambered up one of the series of metal rungs, placed there for the benefit of the infantry and then, steeling myself for what was to come, looked down into the well of the tank.

The interior was thankfully empty of troops or corpses but was awash with the evidence of being hit by an air-burst. The worst sight was the 19 set that was smeared with unmentionable pieces of flesh and I offered up an unsaid prayer for whichever operator had been standing there at the time.

I slid back down to our own tank and reported what I’d seen. I remember Busty saying rather mischievously to Hewie ‘Do you want to take a look?‘ and was pleased to hear a vehement ‘No thanks!’ in reply.

We quickly rejoined the Squadron and Busty reported back to Control to say that the Charlie 4 was now permanently off the air.

I don’t remember ever learning at the time what had happened to unlucky Charlie 4, but last week, fifty-nine years after the event, I had another look at the Regimental Diaries for that day and noted the following item:
“At first the advance was rapid but later Kangaroos met many ditches which slowed them down considerably. A number of POW were taken. Own casualties one NCO killed and two wounded. The Sqn was subjected to very heavy shell and mortar fire during the whole day.”

The day before, on April 12th, Roosevelt had died and the Jerries lost no time in shelling over propaganda leaflets that made capital of this point.

 

Cambridge & Bethnal Greeb Boys Club- The club that produced heroes (19)

As a young teenager in the pre-war years I was a member of the C and B.G Boy's Club.
Every year we hold a re-union and tales are re-told of lads who did more than their share of war-time service.
I have already told the tale of Jack Nissenthal (A2665271) I would now like to tell the story of Donnie Carlton.
Because he is such a reticent character I will have to let the official story speak for itself.
RIFLE BRIGADE, 1939-45
A./CPL. D. CARLTON (10th Battalion), 7th December, 1944: M.M.
For conspicuous gallantry and devotion to duty at Monte Rentella. On 21st/22nd June, 1944, Cpl. Carlton was signal corporal of a company which was ordered to seize the feature to the north of Monte Rentella.
On approaching the objective, the company came under heavy machine-gun fire. Cpl. Carlton, however, carrying a heavy load of vital signal equipment, followed his company commander into the assault, and on reaching the position calmly set about establishing communications.
Small-arms, mortar and shell fire was intense and any movement in the open was almost suicidal. Cpl. Carlton, however, volunteered to carry a message down 800 yards of exposed hillside to the reserve company, with whom it had been found impossible to make contact by any other means.
This task accomplished, he immediately set out up the hill again, still under intense fire, and showing an example of personal courage and devotion to duty which was an inspiration to all who witnessed it.
By the time he approached it, however, the company position had been overrun. Cpl. Carlton, however, although a signaller by trade, gathered together the men in the vicinity, organized them as a section and, still under heavy fire, successfully conducted a fighting withdrawal to the reserve company area.
Cpl. Carlton's complete disregard of his own safety and fine qualities of leadership and initiative in a crisis are worthy of the highest commendation and have set a magnificent example to all ranks of the Battalion.

 

VE Day as seen from a field near Venice (20)

Diary entry for 8th May 1945
Filling up with petrol while Hewie has a day in Venice. Packed most of the tanks. Dinner was just for Bill and I. Boys came back from leave 'dry'.

There we were, in this field in the middle of nowhere, when someone on another tank called out, 'They're going mad back home, get the BBC on your set or you'll miss all the fun.'

I tuned in my 19 set to the Home Forces station and for the benefit of those outside the tank, hung all the earphones over the side of the hull. The crackle of the headphones soon drew a small crowd around the tank and we all listened in amazement to an unknown announcer describing the scene in Trafalgar Square.

I remember quite clearly that my emotions at the time were mixed. On the one hand it was good to feel that perhaps some of my loved ones back home were taking part in the scenes that were now taking place. On the other hand I, and in hindsight, I'm sure most of my comrades, felt somehow cheated that we, who had 'risked life and limb' and had been away from home for so many years, were not there in England to share in the triumph.

There is a footnote to the above.

In May 1995 one of my local papers asked their readers to send in stories relating to 'Where were you on VE Day?' I sent in my small story and as a result of this being published I was contacted by London News Network who were doing a run up to the VE Day Commemoration programs.

I, with a few other veterans, was invited down to the Imperial War Museum, stood in front of a Sherman Tank and interviewed on what it felt like to be listening to the crowds in Trafalgar Square whilst I was still so far from home. I still have a video of the program that was shown during the ITV news and a photo that I took of myself as it was shown on the screen.

 

A Driver/Op in Light Ack Ack (21)
I’ve already covered my training in my article entitled ‘Training to be a Wireless Operator in Wartime Whitby’. What follows is an attempt to explain what it was like to actually do the job in the field.
In May 1943 I was posted out to 84 Battery of the 49th L.A.A Regt. and with two other driver/ops we formed the first communications crew of this particular type of communication within the regiment.
Without getting too technical, in the past every Ack Ack regiment had used dispatch riders known as "Don Rs" to communicate between the troops, batteries and headquarters. Under the new regime each battery had a wireless truck, in our case a l5cwt Bedford Truck, with a crew of three to man it 24 hours a day. And this basically was my life for the next 2l months.
Whether life was easy or not depended on a lot of factors which could be summarised as the weather, the conditions and the shift. For example if the month was August, if we were outside the "line" and if my shift happened to be the O8OO hrs to l6OO hrs then there were worse ways of spending one's time than sitting on the tailboard of the truck with the headphones round one's neck, stripped to the waist and playing cards. On the other side of the coin, if it was December, in the line, under fire and on the 24OO hrs to O8OO hrs shift, then life was far from pleasant.
To add insult to injury, when, later on, in Italy we used to be bogged down for any length of time, it was necessary to set up outposts some considerable distance from the truck, and this involved carrying heavy batteries up and down mountainsides in order to keep communications open.
The wireless truck itself was a 15cwt Bedford and this was home for three men, a No.19 Wireless set, spare 12 volt batteries, all the additional wireless paraphernalia, a petrol driven charging motor (more about this later) all our kit, camouflage nets, and whatever else we could cram in the back when we were on the move.
A typical day would start off with us being on the move from A to B.
When we arrived at our destination the truck would be parked near a tree (if possible) this in order that we could use it as a base for our camouflage nets.
A tarpaulin would be thrown on the ground in order that we could unload the trucks contents ready for action and in minutes it would be cleared for use.
The first job was the “Netting-In” procedure. This was achieved by the control station at RHQ sending out a signal to which we could tune in to. We would then lock our frequencies to achieve maximum receiving and sending strength. It was a very rigid and formalised set procedure. Control would announce “All stations net now” and on our headphones we would listen for a signal that started off as a high pitched whistle and that, as we tuned in, would drop to a low ‘trough’. All sub-stations would then be asked, in turn to ‘Report signal strength’ and after all had reported in the net was officially on the air.
Most of the stuff we received and sent over the net was in code and consisted of apparently meaningless lists of eight letter words. In actual fact these messages were giving command information to all those using the net and the codes would be altered on a daily basis.
We very rarely used morse code, this despite having devoted a lot of time to this form of communication during our training. The sad truth of the matter was that most of us could only receive morse at about twelve words per minute and so we kept morse for receiving in poor radio conditions when it was difficult to hear the transmitting station.
One vital part of our equipment was the charging engine that was necessary to keep all our batteries fully charged. This was permanently chugging away just outside our truck and everybody at BHQ would beg our services to charge their own particular battery. It was not uncommon to have up to ten batteries at a time, all linked up in series, connected to our ‘Johnson Chore Horse’ and later on at night these batteries would provide lighting for the various messes and individual slit trenches.
‘Waffling’ (or chatting un-necessarily) was strictly forbidden, as only one person could talk at a time on the air and the net was monitored so that culprits could be reported.
If reception (strength of signal) was poor we would climb up a few trees and set up a lengthy ‘end-fed’ aerial. The only problem with this was it would take time to reclaim all of this when we moved off again and invariably we left loads of these lines all over Italy!
In December 1944 the use of LAA regiments became un-necessary and I was retrained as a Loader/Operator on tanks. To my surprise and joy I was to find that the wireless set we used was our old friend the No:19 set and it was just like coming home.

 

A Driver/Op in Light Ack Ack (21)
I’ve already covered my training in my article entitled ‘Training to be a Wireless Operator in Wartime Whitby’. What follows is an attempt to explain what it was like to actually do the job in the field.
In May 1943 I was posted out to 84 Battery of the 49th L.A.A Regt. and with two other driver/ops we formed the first communications crew of this particular type of communication within the regiment.
Without getting too technical, in the past every Ack Ack regiment had used dispatch riders known as "Don Rs" to communicate between the troops, batteries and headquarters. Under the new regime each battery had a wireless truck, in our case a l5cwt Bedford Truck, with a crew of three to man it 24 hours a day. And this basically was my life for the next 2l months.
Whether life was easy or not depended on a lot of factors which could be summarised as the weather, the conditions and the shift. For example if the month was August, if we were outside the "line" and if my shift happened to be the O8OO hrs to l6OO hrs then there were worse ways of spending one's time than sitting on the tailboard of the truck with the headphones round one's neck, stripped to the waist and playing cards. On the other side of the coin, if it was December, in the line, under fire and on the 24OO hrs to O8OO hrs shift, then life was far from pleasant.
To add insult to injury, when, later on, in Italy we used to be bogged down for any length of time, it was necessary to set up outposts some considerable distance from the truck, and this involved carrying heavy batteries up and down mountainsides in order to keep communications open.
The wireless truck itself was a 15cwt Bedford and this was home for three men, a No.19 Wireless set, spare 12 volt batteries, all the additional wireless paraphernalia, a petrol driven charging motor (more about this later) all our kit, camouflage nets, and whatever else we could cram in the back when we were on the move.
A typical day would start off with us being on the move from A to B.
When we arrived at our destination the truck would be parked near a tree (if possible) this in order that we could use it as a base for our camouflage nets.
A tarpaulin would be thrown on the ground in order that we could unload the trucks contents ready for action and in minutes it would be cleared for use.
The first job was the “Netting-In” procedure. This was achieved by the control station at RHQ sending out a signal to which we could tune in to. We would then lock our frequencies to achieve maximum receiving and sending strength. It was a very rigid and formalised set procedure. Control would announce “All stations net now” and on our headphones we would listen for a signal that started off as a high pitched whistle and that, as we tuned in, would drop to a low ‘trough’. All sub-stations would then be asked, in turn to ‘Report signal strength’ and after all had reported in the net was officially on the air.
Most of the stuff we received and sent over the net was in code and consisted of apparently meaningless lists of eight letter words. In actual fact these messages were giving command information to all those using the net and the codes would be altered on a daily basis.
We very rarely used morse code, this despite having devoted a lot of time to this form of communication during our training. The sad truth of the matter was that most of us could only receive morse at about twelve words per minute and so we kept morse for receiving in poor radio conditions when it was difficult to hear the transmitting station.
One vital part of our equipment was the charging engine that was necessary to keep all our batteries fully charged. This was permanently chugging away just outside our truck and everybody at BHQ would beg our services to charge their own particular battery. It was not uncommon to have up to ten batteries at a time, all linked up in series, connected to our ‘Johnson Chore Horse’ and later on at night these batteries would provide lighting for the various messes and individual slit trenches.
‘Waffling’ (or chatting un-necessarily) was strictly forbidden, as only one person could talk at a time on the air and the net was monitored so that culprits could be reported.
If reception (strength of signal) was poor we would climb up a few trees and set up a lengthy ‘end-fed’ aerial. The only problem with this was it would take time to reclaim all of this when we moved off again and invariably we left loads of these lines all over Italy!
In December 1944 the use of LAA regiments became un-necessary and I was retrained as a Loader/Operator on tanks. To my surprise and joy I was to find that the wireless set we used was our old friend the No:19 set and it was just like coming home.

 

Joining the 4th Queen's Own Hussars (22)

By the 19th of March, 1945 I had finished my transformation from driver-op in Light Ack to loader-op in the RAC and I was posted to the very prestigious cavalry regiment, the 4th Queens Own Hussars, then in the line at Ravenna.
En route to join the Regiment I was first posted to ‘E’ FDS (Forward Delivery Squadron) where I found myself in charge of a squad preparing Fantails for delivery to units getting ready for the Commachio push.
The Fantails were amphibian versions of the Sherman Tank, designed to cross the marshes and at that time very ‘hush-hush’.
22/3/45 My diary reads:
The ‘Fantails are now in the wood, having been brought in 1 o’clock in the morning. Weird looking things. Spent greater part of the day un-sheeting. Had to guide in a new lot at 9.30 pm.
23/3/45 Am now I/C grease point. Only got through four of the water buffaloes. Everyone needs a bath and some rest. At 8.30 pm met transporters, unloaded and guided in the ‘jobs’.
24/3/45 On solid days work and then we had to go back after dinner till 8.30 pm. The staff officers are in one big flap. Parcel (from home) with wine in it.
29/3/45 Army records confirm this is the day I joined the 4th QOH.
My first shock on joining "A" Squadron was to find the following:
l. I had been assigned as wireless operator to the SSM (Squadron Sergeant Major), one Sgt. Major "Busty" Thomas, as Welsh as it was possible to be.
2. His tank wasn’t the nice, solid-looking Sherman on which I had been trained for the past three months, but was instead a Stuart tank from the 8th Army desert days. To make matters worse its turret had been removed and the only protection "up top" was a canvas hood that was designed to keep the rain off.
3. The SSM's job on the battlefield was to act as nursemaid to the squadron, and this involved anything and everything that no-one else had been detailed for, including picking up stragglers, prisoners, the wounded, and in fact every job that no one else could be spared for, or, would want to do.
Once I had recovered from my first shock I settled in quickly and soon discovered the difference between being in a unit that was strictly an "up front" operation, as opposed to being in a support role such as the Ack Ack regiment I had previously been in.
The next thing I found out was that the Regiment was now part of an armoured spearhead that had been formed to capitalise on the breakthroughs that were taking place here in the very north of Italy. The Germans were finally on the run, and the need was not so much for heavy artillery and slow moving support groups, but rather for fast moving light vehicles and particularly armoured vehicles that could carry infantry right up to their firing positions.
Consequently the Sherman tanks had their turrets taken off, their sides built up and almost overnight were transformed into a new secret weapon with the code name ‘Kangaroos’.
I was elected cook for our tank and also Lt.Walmsley’s tank and to my surprise made a pretty good job of it, of which, more later.
The crew consisted of myself as wireless op and gunner, Busty as tank commander and a lad called Steve Hewitt, or more commonly referred to as "Hewie" as driver. By the way, on the point of nicknames, everyone had one and I was always known as Goldy. The armament of the tank consisted of a .3O Browning machine gun mounted fore, a .50 Browning mounted aft,a 2“ mortar, loads of grenades and pistols that we all wore in our webbing holsters.
We were always very mobile. This mobility was taken to such an extreme that it is worth a short description of the routine.
Suppose that we had been moving along a road and the order to halt came over the radio. We would pull off the road, get under the nearest tree for camouflage purposes and then our bedding sacks would be thrown off the back of the tank, quickly followed by the small cooker and the half petrol can that served as the brew up can.
If we were there for five minutes tea would be made and we would start to cook a meal. If the order to move came crackling over the radio we would simply throw everything back on the tank and the hot brew up would be hung at the rear of the vehicle.
If, however, it became apparent that we were there for the night, the bedrolls would be unrolled and, providing we were not on guard or wireless watch, we would get down to some sleep. The tank suits that we wore were ingeniously designed so that one could unzip them right down to the ankles and we would then use them as an extra ground sheet. In the morning one would then just reverse the process, zip up, roll the bedroll back to its packed position and we were ready to move off again.

Regimental Diaries for that period read as follows:
1st March to 8th March
Re-equipping of A Sqn
16th March
A Sqn moved to new location 522270
19th March
A Sqn trained with Royal West Kents
20th March
A Sqn trained with Royal West Kents. 1200 (hrs) One Kangaroo carrying guardsmen of the 2nd Coldstream Guards exploded on a dump of mines causing the complete wreckage of the Kangaroo and killing 3 Guardsmen and wounding 5. The commander was killed and the driver seriously wounded.
21st to 25th March
A and C Sqns trained with Infantry with B Sqn as Armd protection
29th March
A Sqn carried 6th RWK in exercise HOSANNAH, the Armd protection supplied by the 9th Lancers. 49 Wos,Sgts and Ors departed on Python
By the 15th A Sqn was equipped with the long promised Priest Infantry carriers and on the 16th the Rgt started to move up into an area where it could train Infantry units of 56,78 and 8 Indian Div. as they were available from tours in the line.
All this month the ground has been dry enough for tracked vehicles to deploy and move across country.

One of the perils of rapid advancing that was taking place at that time was that if you broke down, you were left to your own devices until the rear parties could catch up with you. On one occasion, later in the day, we had some barbed wire entangled in our tracks that brought us down to a crawl, and we had to drop behind the main advance. Fortunately we were near a farmhouse, and so we decided to bed down for the night and wait until daylight would allow us to see what we were doing.
Before we could get to sleep we were disturbed by some Italians who had their hands full of rifles of various types. Apparently they had been informed by some earlier troops that if they had arms on the premises they must hand them in to avoid being shot as German collaborators. Quite naturally they were very keen to hand them over to us, but by the same token we were loath to tell them to fill our small crowded turret with their antiquated firepower!
We solved the matter in a rather black comedy manner by allowing them to pass the guns up to us and then, in the dark, we threw them over the other side of the tank instead of into the turret. At first light we got rid of the offending barbed wire and got away sharp before the Italians discovered they had been spoofed.
Back to the cooking while I think of it. It was the practice then for two tanks to "mess" together for the purposes of drawing rations etc., and we used to mess with Lt. Walmsley's tank. If I remember rightly he was second adjutant to the squadron leader, but he was certainly Canadian by birth. I still remember the fact that he used to put his marmalade on top of his fried bacon, and when he once saw me looking at him with amusement he rejoined; "It all goes down the same hole, doesn't it?"
As official cook I would draw rations usually every second day, and I would be permanently on the lookout for a chance to swap items with the locals for eggs or bread, to supplement our diet. I became a pretty dab hand at finding potatoes in the fields and even managed to produce the odd spotted pudding for high occasions.
On one occasion only Busty complained about the "sameness" of the cooking, and I was so incensed that at the next meal I gave him his plate piled high with his original rations of corned beef and dehydrated potato. Fortunately for me he saw the humour of the matter and accepted the fact that of the six crew that I was cooking for, I was probably the best bet.
As I have already mentioned I found I had an aptitude for languages and by now my Italian was pretty fluent. Consequently, whenever it was necessary to do a small reconnaissance I was often chosen to go with to interpret.
April 1945
Regimental Diaries:
1st April
4TP A Sqn carried 43rd Royal Marines Commando in Op Roast and were extremely successful, 43rd Commando being responsible for 420 of the 1000 POW taken by the Commando Brigade. One Kangaroo hit by 50 mm but was recovered. No casualties.
The attack over the Senio
Regimental Diaries:
A Sqn carried London Irish Rifles on 2nd Armd Bde exercise, Armd protection by the Queens Bays
3rd April
A Sqn carried 5th Buffs on 2nd Armd Bde exercise, Armd protection by the 9th Lancers
5th April
A and B Sqns moved to GODO area
6th April
Preparation for Op BUCKLAND
9th April
A Squadron HQ moved to area 420385
10th April
A and B Sqns crossed the Senio
11th April
1630 hrs A Sqn moved to outskirts of LUGO. A Sqn 2 and 4tp carried Gurkha Rifles. 1 and 3 Tp carried RFF Rifles in an advance to the banks of the river SANTERNO. After 1 and 3 Tp dropped their Infantry they encountered A/Tk mines. 6 Carriers of 1 Tp and 1 of 3Tp were damaged. No casualties.
13th April
A and B Sqns moved off with 2 Armd Brigade and passed through the bridgehead. Advance went very well as far as the canal crossing 315535 where the bridge was blown causing the advance to be held up. At first the advance was rapid but later Kangaroos met ditches which slowed them down considerably. A number of POW were taken. Own casualties one NCO killed and 2 wounded. The Sqn was subjected to very heavy shell and mortar fire during the whole of the day.
14th April
2nd Armd Bde advance. A Sqn entered LAVEZZOLA to advance North of the RENO bridge which on arrival was found to be partially blown. Considerable mopping up was done by all troops during the day..
15th April
All Sqns spent the day reorganizing and doing maintenance.
16th April
A Sqn moved across river RENO to area 331581. Intention, immediately the ARGENTA Gap was broken the group would advance North. Waited all day while others battled to break through the ARGENTA Gap.
18th April
A and B Sqns forming part of 2nd Armd Bde Grp advanced to form bridgehead across FOSSA SABBASOLA at 240665. A Sqn worked hard all day to be rewarded with excellent results. RHQ Tp did bulk of work but suffered 2 Kangaroo casualties. Air bursts over the 2nd i/c’s Honey badly wounded 2 of the crew. In general, the enemy were taken by surprise.. Many SPs and Mark Ivs were encountered but in conjunction with excellent fighter-bomber support throughout the day the majority were destroyed. (See my diary for the same day)
Sunday 8th. April 1945
Colonel gave A and B squadrons griff talk talk for this 'final' campaign. Packed tank sheet and covered my bed with Honey canopy.
Monday 9th April 1945
Moved to other side of Traversare. Dug in and have bivvie to myself.. D day and H hour have started. One rocket landed fairly near. Leaflets dropped.
One interesting feature at this particular time of the war was the increase in Jerry propaganda to which the front line troops were subjected. At one time I had quite a few of these and in my Album there is still a small collection.
See my posting (A2297333) German Propaganda Leaflets.

 

Getting your Army Records (23)
I am, by nature, a compulsive diary writer. Originally I used tiny diaries to record my life in the army, but I graduated over the years and I now record everything on a Sharp ZQ-770 Organizer.
I have also, during the last few years, tried to finalise my memoirs, in theory for the benefit of my children and grandchildren, but in actual fact for the simple pleasure of looking back at what I did and marvelling at my own sheer energy.
As I tightened up the record of what I had done I noticed various gaps in the chronology, mainly in my service years between 1942 and 1947, so I decided to write to the Army Historical Disclosures department, because that's the name of the place where they keep your records.
I wrote late in March 2003 and received a package from them at the end of May 2003, but WHAT an Alladin's cave of treasures came pouring out of that large, buff envelope!
There were my two driving licences, the first one dated 9-2-43 when I learnt to drive over the Yorkshire moors and the second dated 10-12-46, ready to be swapped for its civilian counterpart.
There were all my postings, there was my 'Notification of impending release' dated 19-3-47 with its Military Conduct Testimonial from which I learn I was always 'Cheerful and Hardworking and his efficiency at his work is quite outstanding'. (Their words, not mine, I hasten to add!)
There was the momentous announcement that I was 'Promoted Unpaid Acting Cpl wef (with effect from) 20/7/46' followed by a further announcement 21 days later to tell the world that I was now a fully paid corporal.
There, horror of horrors, was an item that read 'Deprived of 7 days pay for (1). Failing to comply with Bty Orders (2) AWOL from 2130 hrs on 17-6-43 to 0505 hrs on 18-6-43. Absent 7hrs 35 mtes.' (The place of this offence is shown as being in the 'Field', although I remember it being at Guelma in Tunisia and although we'd only nipped down to the nearby village wine bar we were charged as though we'd stayed out till the next morning roll call!)
The next item on the same document shows that I made up for this deplorable criminal offence by noting that on 22-8-43 I embarked (ominously shown as 'Destination Unknown') and was taken off the strength of the 8th Army. (In actual fact this was our landing in Sicily.)
Here is a list of all the medals I was entitled to, there is my height, weight and colour of my eyes. Page after page of fascinating memorabilia finishing with two dates, the date I enlisted 1-10-1942 and the date I was posted to Class A release, 21-7-47.
I cannot begin to express how much pleasure it was to get this time machine from the past, I can only recommend this splendid service to fellow ex-servicemen.
Corporal (fully paid-up) Goldstein. R. 14300260, 4th Queen's Own Hussars

 

Training to be a Driver/Wireless Operator (24)

During my first few weeks in the army we were given various aptitude tests and it was discovered that I had an affinity for reading Morse code for when the course was finished I found myself posted to the 52nd Driver/Wireless Operator Training Rgt. at Whitby in Yorkshire
I arrived at Whitby in mid November '42 and first impressions were very favourable. It appeared as if we were to be treated like adults here as opposed to the training camp we had left behind at Bury St.Edmunds

We found ourselves billeted, six to a room, in small houses scattered around the town. First thing every morning the troop corporals to whom we had been allotted called round each of the billets in turn and we 'fell in.' outside and joined an ever lengthening group of marchers. When we were all finally assembled we marched to a local church hall where breakfast was ready for us.
After breakfast we marched to an imposing ex-hotel on the cliff top, the Metropole, which was to be our training college for the next three months. Here we were to learn the rudiments of both radio transmission and driving, in almost equal measure.
We soon learned that the purpose behind the course was to train us in the then newly established role of Driver -Operators and to send us out to the Middle East to join Anti-aircraft units. Apparently the War Office had decided that communications in the Artillery needed speeding up.
In the past, whenever a unit commander wished to pass a message to one of his gun crews he would use a motor cycle dispatch rider who would deliver the command and then return with a confirmation. The new idea was that every battery would have a small wireless truck as part of its establishment and this truck would be in permanent communication with both H.Q. and every other battery in the Regiment. Each truck would have a crew of three men and all the crew would be able to both drive and operate the radio.
I enjoyed the course, I particularly enjoyed learning to drive and the hilly roads of Yorkshire were ideal for this purpose. At least three times a week we would be marched to the Metropole car park and formed up in the centre of the square which also doubled up as our parade ground.
Round the outside of the square a wide variety of army vehicles would be lined up and on the command "To your vehicles --- dismiss!" all assembled would make a dash for their favourite vehicle or instructor.
Almost at the end of the course I was due to take the driving test that would enable me to call myself a qualified army driver. As luck would have it on the same morning as I took the test I had a dental appointment and so by the time this had finished it was about eleven a.m. before I could get to the car park where I was due to meet my examiner.
To my horror when I arrived the only vehicle left in the car park was a huge tank transporter.
When the examiner saw the petrified look on my face and I had explained the reason for my lateness he laughed aloud, took pity on me and gave me a two minute course on how to handle this monster with its complicated gear changes and its huge turning circle. He also gave me a pass at the end of what must have been for both of us a very alarming ride!
Quite apart from our training we were also called upon to man pillboxes along the coast against the always threatening German invasion of England. Despite our best intentions we could never take this very seriously particularly when we found ourselves manning a pill box on a deserted strip of the coast outside Whitby armed with only a Lee Enfield rifle and five rounds of ammunition.
At the end of the course my comrades and I proudly sewed on our Driver/Op. badges, a stylised hand grasping forked lightning and we were posted to various anti-aircraft regiments around the country.

 

The war ends in Italy, 2nd May 1945 (25)
Notes from my Diaries
Wednesday 2nd. May 1945
Jerry threw his hand in Italy and Austria. Fired all our 2" mortars, phosphorous bombs and verey lights and had bonfires all over the shop.
Cease fire about 11 pm.
( At noon today the Germans signed an unconditional surrender at Caserta)
Within days the whole regiment was summoned on parade by the CO who addressed us as follows:
"As you know the war in Europe is now over, and I suppose most of you are looking forward to seeing your loved ones again after years spent overseas. I must tell you, however, that there is an SS Cavalry Division in Austria at the moment who refuse to cease fighting and our regiment has been given the honour of going up there and persuading them that it would be a good idea on their part to surrender to us."
Wednesday 9th. May 1945
All packed ready for move to Austria of all places but cancelled when S.S. Division packed in. Parcel from home with Kummel.
Thursday 10th. May 1945
Playing cards all day. Latest griff is we are getting armoured cars and then going to Austria as occupational troops. Still no mail.
Friday 11th. May 1945
Spent all afternoon in Padua, iced drinks, ices and ENSA show.
Met lads of brother Mick's Brigade.
Hear that Jack has been shot down over Nuremberg.
This was the terrible day when I received a letter from home to say that my brother Jack had been shot down over Germany and had been posted as missing. It reached me within a week of the war ending in Europe and at a time when we were all congratulating ourselves on having survived the war.
Saturday 12th. May 1945
Afternoon in Venice. Took lift to the top of the Campanile in Piazza San Marco. Had picture taken with the clock in the background.
Sunday 13th. May 1945
Had a day in, fortunately, as orders came in that we are on 12 hours notice to move into Austria
Monday 14th. May 1945
Moved off at 8 am. Stopped for night just North of Udine at small village that had been bombed by us. Partisans swarmed all over the place, one with Robin Hood beard.
The Partisans were something new in my experience. In my estimation these were genuine heroes, to have been captured by the Germans would have meant certain death for themselves and probably their families. Without exception they were all bearded and dressed in the most motley of clothing. They were armed with mainly captured German weapons and at this point in their lives they were living a dream come true. We saw one small group who had recently captured a German soldier. They were pushing him along in front of them to lord knows where. The soldier was grey in face as if he knew what fate awaited him and no one in our party made the slightest move to ask them what was going on.
Regimental Diaries:
15th May Verbal orders received from 78 Div to establish POW camp at FERNDORF for 500 POW.
Wednesday 16th. May 1945
At Ferndorf. Nothing to do but wait arrival of (German) prisoners. Griff is very confused. Am not on guard list. Billets crowded but quite O.K.
Ferndorf
The site for the camp was almost ideal. Situated in a valley it must originally have been a field for grazing and had the river on one side and railway embankment on the other. We quickly put up some barbed wire around the perimeter and bingo, we had a cage. Within a few days the first 2OOO prisoners arrived by train and eventually this number was to swell to 4OOO.
Timber was requisitioned from far and wide, and after it was dumped in the cage, the Germans were told to get on with it and build their own accommodation, which they soon did in a most professional manner. One of the first buildings put up was a guard room for our own benefit and I, in company with the rest of "A" squadron, was to spend the next month doing 24 hours on, and 24 hours off guard without a break.
At any one time there were only four men on actual guard around the perimeter, one patrolling the railway embankment, one the river bank, and the other two each other side of the cage. The Germans had their own internal guard to keep things in order within the cage itself and it was quite common for the British and German guards to patrol together, each on his own side of the wire.
On one occasion, in the early hours of the morning, I was chatting in German to my counterpart on the other side. I told him I was Jewish, to which I got the almost automatic response: "Ich habe so viel Freunden Juden!", ( I have so many Jewish friends!) and I asked him as a matter of academic interest what would have happened if some weeks earlier I had the misfortune to be captured by his own unit and they discovered I was Jewish.
He considered the matter for a moment and then told me that if I had been one of a large group of prisoners, then no attempt would have been made to segregate me, and I would have just been sent to the rear with the others. If, however, I had been captured separately and if his own officer said to him "shoot him" then he would simply have shot me, for as he quite cheerfully pointed out to me: "If I don't shoot you, then he shoots me!"
At the time, it all seemed perfectly logical to both of us and I have often been glad that events had never put the matter to the test.
On another occasion I was on the river bank duty and was being observed by a bunch of young Jerries. It was fairly obvious that they were amused by something and I asked them what they were laughing at. The ringleader said: "It's because you are only armed with a pistol!" (as tank crew this was standard issue and worn in a belt holster). I pointed out to him that if he personally attempted to slip through the wire and swim the river, the pistol was more than sufficient to stop him, if on the other hand the whole 4OOO of them were to decide to make a run for it, then all the armoured cars in the village would probably have difficulty in stopping them. He saw the logic of it and shared it with his friends.
Occasionally we would lose some prisoners who would scoot up the railway embankment and make for the hills, and we used to send out patrols in the early hours to see if they were hiding in the local farms. To everyone's embarrassment we sometimes found our own troops having a liaison with the local "talent."

 

Not my worst night, by any means (26)

The time was April 1943, and I was a 19-year-old very green wireless operator, who had just arrived in Algiers in north Africa as reinforcement to General Anderson's 1st Army.
After spending a few weeks in a transit camp at nearby Cap Matifou, I found that a few others and I were to be posted to a light anti-aircraft regiment in Tunis. Our method of transportation there turned out to be cattle trucks on an antiquated railway line.

The train itself caused us some amusement, if that’s the right word. The wagon to which we were allocated bore the sign ‘6 Chevaux au 20 Hommes’ stencilled on the side. We were destined to sit on bare, broken floorboards for the best part of three days.
Occasionally, without warning, the train would stop, and one of the officers aboard would run down the length of the train calling out, ‘We’re here for an hour if you want to do anything.’ ‘Anything’ could include cooking a meal, digging oneself a small hole in the desert scrub or buying hard-boiled eggs from the Arabs who appeared as if from nowhere.
At the end of the first day, the train clanked to a halt, and we all clambered out stiffly to make our beds under the stars.

I had already made friends with another young chap, whom I had first met back in England — a Londoner, like me — and we bedded down next to each other. As we ate our evening’s rations, my friend broke the silence.
‘You know, Ron, this has got to be the worst moment of my life, eating a meal of cold, uncooked bully beef and sleeping on the sand out in the open.’
The joke was that I personally was in seventh heaven.

The brilliant stars in the jet-black sky under which I now lay were the most beautiful sight I had ever seen in my own short life. The romance of actually being in the desert was manna from heaven for this particular cockney boy who, until he went in the army, had never been further from home than Brighton.
As the war progressed, I was to savour many experiences, some good, others not so good, and my travels were to take me to Sicily, Italy, Austria, Germany and Egypt. No memory, however, has stayed with me as vividly as that first night in the desert.
I have often thought about my friend’s remark and wondered if he later had occasion to change his mind about ‘the worst night of his life’!

 

Diary Entries 11th April 1945 (27)

Some excerpts from my Wartime diaries
in the 4th Queen's Own Hussars
Wednesday 11th. April 1945
Woken at 4 am to go into Lugo area with Recce party. Stood at cross roads for a couple of hours. Area lousy with mines. Late breakfast when tanks arrived.
On April ll th I went with Lt. Walmsley by jeep to Lugo, the fortified town that is surrounded by water and to which access is made by many small bridges. We stopped the jeep on the outside perimeter and looked across one of these bridges at the town that we could see in front of us.
The trouble was that the bridge had obviously been hit by shell fire and was in a bit of a mess. It did, however, look as if we could get across on foot through the rubble.
With its back to us a notice board had been fixed in the centre of the bridge and Walmsley said to me: "Nip over there and see what it says." Without any further thought I did this, and after I had reached the spot and read the notice I called across to Walmsley in what I hoped was not too shaky a voice: "It says 'Achtung Minen!'. I had, in fact, just walked through a Jerry minefield and was now faced with the unpleasant task of trying to remember exactly where I had placed my feet on the journey in. The fact that 58 years later I am able to write about the incident means, of course, that at the time I must have been blessed with either a good memory or good luck.
Thursday 12th. April 1945
Bit of stonking last night. Moved into area South side of Santerno river and waited for bridge to be slung across. After supper lined up with 2nd. Armoured Brigade column.
Friday 13th. April 1945
Moved over Santerno. Some M.G. nuisance and one H.E. about twenty yards away. Bags of prisoners, Kiss from Signora. "Liberatoris !". Chasing after tedeschis with 30 browning blazing!
The Browning machine gun referred to was rarely fired in anger, the exception being on this one occasion when I nearly killed Hewie our Stuart Tank driver.
We had been on the move all day and the Germans were surrendering left, right and centre. To our left, about two hundred yards away, German infantry were climbing out of slit trenches with their hands high and we were gesturing to them to get behind us and to make their way to the rear.
Suddenly someone to our right opened light rifle fire at us and Busty (SSM ‘Busty’ Thomas) lost patience and yelled at me "Let the bastards have it!" Hewie swung the tank to the right so we could face the new threat and I started firing non-stop, without giving Hewie a chance to drop his adjustable seat down below the level of fire belching from the Browning. A horrified Busty yelled: "Get down you stupid bastard!" and to my immediate relief Hewie disappeared from view before I could hit him.
Within seconds the rifle fire was replaced by more hand-raising, and we were able to proceed without further incident.
Whilst looking through a transcript of my remaining Diary entries I came across the following that I felt should be included in my 'memoirs'.
Tuesday 24th. April 1945
Flap in the night and we moved off at 2 am. XXXXXX was blotto and consequently net was lively. Made sweep of Ferrara suburbs. Busty smashes door in.
Wednesday 25th. April 1945
Moved off at first light. Stopped at casa where Busty fitted out old people with suit. Pulled into new H.Q. area then out again. Finally stopped at factory
This episode about Busty was a piece of pure ‘black comedy’.
The squadron was advancing Northward, and in the middle of the night of the 24th we came across a small farmhouse. Busty, Tommy Gun in his hands,very melodramatically kicked open the door of the house then, as no-one was in residence, rummaged through a chest of drawers.
He found and ‘liberated’ a tweed suit saying ‘this might come in handy later for a bit of swapping’ . The next day we were at another farmhouse where the occupants gave us a bottle of vino and Busty promptly gave them the suit he’d ‘liberated’ the previous day. I couldn’t help wondering at the time whether or not at some time in the future farmer A would see farmer B and ask him ‘Where did you get that suit from, I used to have one just like it !’
Looking back at this event some sixty odd years later I suppose that other folks might have considered this came under the heading of looting. In all honesty,Busty would have hotly denied this and I suppose that as I shared in the bottle of vino I was also an accomplice and I certainly don’t feel guilty of any such crime.

 

One family, Five sons, all serving in H.M.Forces (28)

I come from a large family. My parents, of Blessed Memory, were Joe and Fanny Goldstein and when war broke out on September 3rd 1939 the family was based in Boreham Street, Bethnal Green in the East End of London.
Head of the family in every sense was Dad, otherwise known as Joe, Mr.G. or the Guvnor.
When war broke out he was aged 56.
Mum, known as Fanny, or Faigele was 55
Annie , the oldest daughter, was 31
Lou, the oldest son, was 30
Jack, next in line, was 27
Esther was aged 26
Mossy, one of twins was 23
as was
Gertie, his twin
Polly was aged 22
Mick was aged 19
Debbie was aged 18
Ronnie was 16
and
Jean was aged 9
By 1944 all the boys were in the forces as detailed below
Lou was a Lance Corporal in the Royal Army Service Corps from 1941 to 1946
Jack volunteered for the RAF in January 1944 and served in 166 Bomber
Squadron at Kirmington in Humberside. As a Sgt.Air Gunner he flew on fifteen operations over Germany and was tragically Killed in Action over Nuremberg on the 16th March 1945.
Mossy was a Corporal PT Instructor in the Kings Royal Rifle Corps and stationed in the UK between 1940 and 1946.
Mick enlisted on 24th July 1940, initially served with the Royal Fusiliers and subsequently became a Sergeant Major in the Royal Artillery. He volunteered for the Jewish Brigade, served with them in Italy and was de-mobbed in January 1947.
Ron, that’s me, was called up in October 1942 serving firstly as a Wireless Operator in Light Ack Ack in the UK, North Africa, Sicily and Italy and was later re-trained as a Loader/Operator. He finished the war with the 4th Queen’s Own Hussars and was demobbed a Corporal in March 1947.
In addition to the boys all serving, Esther, Gertie and Debbie all had husbands in the Forces and Polly was in the Land Army.
Updates:
1. By the time that this website became a 'sealed' archive in January 2006 and following on the passing of his much loved brother Mick in November 2005, Ron was the sole surviving brother.
2. Jack's son Michael has written movingly about his father in a series of articles which can be found at U2883517