Have you looked at the BBC Peoples War Archives lately ?

Discussion in 'Veteran Accounts' started by Ron Goldstein, Nov 19, 2010.

  1. Ron Goldstein

    Ron Goldstein WW2 Veteran WW2 Veteran

    Postings on behalf of Martin Sugarman (29)

    In the early days of the BBC's People's war website I found myself also posting other person's stories onto the site..

    In some cases this was because the person involved didn't think it was worthwhile posting themselves or where they perhaps lacked confidence or expertise in making their own entries.

    This was not the case however when I posted these articles for Martin Sugarman, senior archivist for AJEX and he was later to join ww2talk in order to do his own thing.

    Some fascinating stories here:

    Jack Nissenthall- The VC Hero Who Never Was: Part 2
    No.3 (Jewish) Troop, No.10 Commando
    Two Jewish Heroines of the SOE Part 1
    Two Jewish Heroines of the SOE Part 2
    Two Jewish Heroines of the SOE Part 3
    Two Jewish Heroines of the SOE Part 4
    A Jewish Hero in the SOE Part 1
    A Jewish Hero in the SOE Part 2
    Jack Nissenthall - The VC Hero Who Never Was (Part 1a)
    Jack Nissenthall - The VC Hero Who Never Was (Part 1b)
     
  2. Ron Goldstein

    Ron Goldstein WW2 Veteran WW2 Veteran

    Running a staging camp in Germany, August 1945 (30)

    Thursday 16th August 1945
    My (22nd.)birthday was celebrated in the Squadron canteen. Aided by Vic, Hewie,Wyatt, 29 tins of beer and 6 bottles of beer I got very happy and so to bed
    Regimental Diaries:
    19th Aug Advance party of A Sqn moved to TUNIS camp, ULM on overland leave route
    22nd Aug A Sqn main party left to relieve 17/21st Lancers at ULM. Rear party commanded by Lt.Balfour remained at TRIEBEN to guard Armd Cars
    Sunday 19th. August 1945
    Moved off at 7.15 am through Salzburg, Munich, Dachau, Augsberg and arrived in Ulm about 6'ish. Had dinner, shower and went to canteen where I met Dizzy.
    August/September 1945
    Running a Staging Camp in Ulm in Germany
    In September we (that's A Sdrn. 4th Queen's Own Hussars) landed another interesting job, that of running a staging camp in Germany. At that time there was an Army scheme in operation called L.I.A.P., which stood for Leave in Addition to Python. Python was the code name for leave that was given to troops that had done four years or more abroad and were due for home posting, whereas LIAP was now being given to those who had "only" (my inverted commas) done two years and nine months overseas service.
    To get the returning warriors home, a series of staging camps were set up, starting in Italy, extending across Germany and France and finishing up at Dover. "A" squadron had been chosen to run the camp at Ulm, about l5O miles north of Munich and so off we went again, for the first time in Germany itself. On the way through Munich we passed the famous Beer Cellar where Hitler had made speeches in his early days. Lt.Walmsly and Major Paddy O'Brien stopped the truck they were travelling in and posed for me. The snap is still in my album.
    We settled in very quickly.
    Every evening about seven o'clock the convoy of lorries used to arrive and then facilities were laid on for the two or three hundred men to be fed, refreshed and all their needs attended to before they left the following morning at O7OO hours.
    My own particular job was the cushy one of camp librarian and my duties were simple, to say the least. At the beginning of the "run" in Italy all troops were given opportunities to purchase paperback books from the NAAFI canteen. As they arrived at each staging camp in turn, they could swap on a one-for-one basis and so they had plenty to read en route. As librarian I was only on duty from seven in the evening until 9pm and then the rest of the day was my own. One other small duty was taking down the news from the BBC broadcasts and posting it on the canteen notice board.
    The giggle was the fact that on some occasions reception was bad and the announcer spoke too fast. When this happened I used to fill in my own version of the news, regardless of the accuracy of the statements, but I don't think that anyone was ever the wiser and the next bulletin was always updated.
    As we were now a British outpost in the heart of Germany we often had visitors turning up looking for repatriation to England, and I was often called in to interpret. On one occasion a strange young man turned up claiming to be of British origin and I was told to translate. When I found my German was not enough to cope with the situation I switched to French and Italian whereupon the young man said to me: "You must be Jewish," going on to say that the only British he knew who could speak so many languages were Jewish.
    The canteen at the camp had a film projector and nightly shows were given for those in transit. Because we had a different audience every night, it must have occurred to someone that it was not necessary to change the film, and therefore the whole month that we were in Ulm the film was always "Cover Girl" with Betty Grable. As the town itself was off-limits to the camp staff, we would invariably find ourselves watching the film and consequently we knew all the script and the dance routines backwards! For months afterwards some of the lads would break into one of the complicated song and dance routines. One favourite lyric was "Who's complaining, I'm not complaining, together we'll see this thing through, Because of Axis trickery my coffee's now chicory, and I can hardly purloin a sirloin."
     
  3. Ron Goldstein

    Ron Goldstein WW2 Veteran WW2 Veteran

    My welcome home (31)

    In November '45 I finally got my first leave home after being abroad since April 1943. I came back to London and Manor Road over the LIAP (Leave In Addition to PYTHON) route that I had previously helped to run.
    I travelled for three days via lorry, train and ferry and finally reached Stoke Newington where my parents were now living.
    As I got off the bus in Manor Road I could see the front door some 200 yards away. Over the doorway I could also see that decorations had been placed in position in patriotic red, white and blue. It was obviously one of those many 'welcome home' signs that I had been seeing all the way from Dover and I have to confess to feeling quite touched.
    It was only when I got right outside the door that I could read the sign itself. It said: 'WELCOME HOME JACK'. My name is Ron! My brother-in law had beaten me to it and his name over the door had taken all the wind out of my sails!
    Despite the sign, however, Mum, Dad and all at home seemed pleased to see me and I had a fantastic 28-day leave.
     
  4. Ron Goldstein

    Ron Goldstein WW2 Veteran WW2 Veteran

    Trieste, October 1945 to January 1947

    From the Regimental Diary for 1 October 1945: 'Major JJ O’Brien left to go on a course in UK, also 14 days leave. Warning order received that the Regt will move to TRIESTE to become Recce Regt in 56th (Lon) Div in lieu of 44th Recce Rgt.'
    October 1945

    In October we moved to the Trieste area, to a small town called Opicina, which sat on the top of a hill overlooking the Bay of Trieste. The view from the peak was terrific. The area was known as the Morgan Line and acted as a buffer zone between the Yugoslavs and the Italians, both of whom laid claim to this territory.
    The barracks we moved into had formerly belonged to an Italian army unit and were quite spacious. Almost overnight, stones were whitewashed, flagpoles were erected and 'bull' was the order of the day.
    The system for release from the army at that time was based on a combination of age and length of service. This then gave one a 'group number', and over the next year or so each group number came up in turn and the members of that group received their discharge. The lower the group number the quicker you got out. My own group number was 48, rather high because I was only 19 when I was called up.
    As the older and longer-serving members started to leave there was a frantic effort by those of us remaining to get into a reasonable position so that we would not be obliged to take part in the 'demilitarisation' that was taking place. Just by chance at that time, I was given a choice of two options. I could either go on a skiing holiday at Cortina, or take a course as a technical storeman. If I took the first option I might miss out on the chance for a 'safe' job - but on the other hand, when would another opportunity come up to learn to ski?
    Being the coward that I am, I took the course, and as a result was promoted to Lance Corporal, then later to Full Corporal. Within a short time I was put in complete charge of all the technical stores in the squadron. The job required organising expertise rather than engineering experience, and I was soon well on top of the situation and enjoying my new-found responsibilities. At times, when I found myself signing for half a dozen tanks at a time, I used to say to myself: 'Hold on there...that's 180,000 pounds worth of equipment you've just become responsible for!' But I don't remember losing any sleep over the matter!
    The regiment was very involved with the keeping of the peace in Trieste itself, as there were a lot of political parties and even numerous states trying to seize control of the Venezia Giulia area. It was quite common to be sitting in a cinema in town and to have a notice flashed on the screen that said: 'All troops must return immediately to their units.' On our arrival back in camp we would find ourselves being armed and sent back to the town in convoy to control the riots that were taking place.
    While we were stationed here I got my first leave home back to England, briefly touched on in my story My Welcome Home.
    Back in Trieste after my leave I found that the riots were still in full swing and that many more of the old-timers had left. With some of my friends, I also discovered the joys of gracious living. I hasten to explain.
    The YMCA in Trieste had taken over a leisure centre which offered, amongst other facilities, a chance to have one's laundry done. On Friday evenings my friends and I would come into town and make straight for the YMCA. Here we would have a shower, a haircut, change our Khaki Drill uniform for a clean set left the week before, and then, all spick and span, we would head for one of the best restaurants in town.
    We would go right through the menu, including wines with each course, followed by brandy and cigars. But the best part was yet to come. Instead of paying cash for these blessings we would each sell a tin of 50 cigarettes to the waiter and the cash received was more than sufficient to pay for the whole evening's entertainment, including the earlier visit to the YM! Strictly speaking, of course, the authorities would not have approved of our using army issue cigarettes for this purpose, but the result was that after our evening out we used to glow all the way back to camp.
    January 1946

    We settled down at Villa Opicina and Eddy Patman took over the job of running the canteen.
    A word about Eddy. In civvy street he had been a film reviewer for the cinema trade magazine 'The Cinema'. He loved all aspects of the cinema and when we were in Rome I went with him to see 'The Song of Bernadette' and he sent a review of it back to his old firm and later showed me the article in the magazine. When he finally made it back to civilian life he achieved very high ranking both for MGM and later for Fox, and we were to stay firm friends right up to his untimely death in 1993.
    February 1946

    On one occasion the navy decided it would be a good idea if they were to send some of the matelots stationed in Trieste to our barracks for a day's leave. We showed them around, let them drive our tanks etc, and in short they had a good day's fun. In turn the navy invited some of us back to their own units and I was chosen to spend a day on a mine-sweeper in Trieste harbour.
    It was a lovely day and all was going fine until it was pointed out to us that the degaussing equipment aboard (which neutralised the magnet mines in the harbour) had developed a fault. For the balance of the day the boat was surrounded by floating and very lethal German mines and we found ourselves fending them off and taking pot-shots at them!
    March 1946

    Among the cultural treats available in Trieste was an old Roman Castle named Castello San Giusto. In the summer months hey used to hold opera performances there, in the open, and I was lucky enough to see a performance of Carmen with an orchestra and cast of several hundred. The audience numbered 12,000 and the performance went on till the early hours of the morning.
    April 1946 - Passover in Trieste

    On 16 April my very good friend Leslie Gilbert and I attended a Passover service at the Marittima ballroom on the harbour front of Trieste. A fair amount of local civilians attended and the service was organised by an Austrian who had been released from a concentration camp and his two daughters, all of whom worked for AMGOT (Allied Military Government for Occupied Territories).
    The service was about halfway through when there was a clamour at one of the doors. Some further concentration camp victims had arrived in the area and had heard of the service that was taking place. To our shame, the local Jewish Army Chaplain, who was present, wanted to keep them out, insisting that army rations had only been issued for those expected. Fortunately for good sense he was soon told in no uncertain terms that all those present would refuse to eat if the newcomers were not allowed in, and the evening proceeded without any further problems.
    May 1946

    Among the few civilians I knew in Trieste was the Austrian AMGOT worker I had met at the Passover service. I was at his house one evening and one of his daughters was just about to leave to visit another friend. Because the streets of Trieste were not altogether safe after dark, he asked me to escort her to her destination and I was happy to oblige.
    We had just got into the street outside his flat when we literally stumbled over a body in the kerb. The young girl, I can’t remember her name, was very distressed but able to identify the dead person as another Jew who lived in a flat above her own. She asked me to telephone the police from a nearby bar, because she had no phone in her flat, and I escorted her back to the home we had just left. I phoned from the bar, not leaving my name or any information other than that there was a corpse in the street near the bar - because I had no intention of being involved with the Italian police when I was so near to going home on leave. A few days later I called to her home again to find out what had happened and was told that the police believed the dead man had committed suicide by jumping from the roof.
    June 1946

    On 8 June I was home on leave again, and this time it coincided with the official victory celebrations. I got myself good and early to a vantage point in Whitehall and had the pleasure of seeing a contingent of the 4th Hussars march past in the splendid parade, which included the carriage of King George VI and Queen Elizabeth. The photos in my album capture it all.
    When I got back from leave it was to find that our barracks were being shared with the Royal Northumberland Fusiliers.
    July 1946

    Trieste was a very interesting place to be at this time and it was not unknown for a lot of black marketing to be going on between the troops and the civilians. Cigarettes in particular were in great demand by the civilian population. We as troops got a 'free issue' of 50 a week, plus we were able to buy at least a hundred a week in the NAAFI. These used to fetch a fair price on the streets and there was at least one 'scam' that some of our own MPs were said to have practised.
    Apparently the MPs would watch out for British troops making a deal in a side alley, then pounce, confiscate all the cigarettes and any money being offered and let the offenders go on a promise not to offend again. Needless to say, once the guilty parties had fled the evidence was kept by the MPs for later sale to their own pet buyers.
    August 1946

    I had been overseas since April 1943 and it was therefore getting near the time for me to be sent home to England under the Python scheme. This was a system whereby, if one had served three years and nine months abroad, you qualified for home posting.
    As my time got nearer I got more on edge and lived in fear of being involved in a situation that might postpone my home posting. One such possible event occurred because of my position as Tech Corporal in charge of Squadron Technical Stores. The stores themselves were in the barracks but immediately outside the store I kept various large items that were too big to be kept indoors. Among these items were two huge Staghound Armoured Car tyres. These, I hasten to say, were worth at least £100 to anyone who could supply them to the Yugoslav forces. One morning, immediately before roll call, the young lad who was my assistant and who I was training to take over from me came to me in a state of panic. The two tyres had been stolen.
    I reported the matter to Busty Thomas and within minutes all the camp was sealed off. The short story is that the tyres were never recovered but all the evidence pointed to one Trooper X. The matter was never proven, however, and for about two weeks I sweated on being kept back in Italy as a potential court-martial witness. By a sheer coincidence, when I eventually returned to England the same Trooper X was on the same draft. For my own peace of mind I asked him to tell me, in all confidence, how he’d organised this massive theft, but he merely laughed and said, 'It wasn’t me mate !'
    September 1946

    From Opicina we now moved to the dockyard area of Monfalcone, just a few miles down the road but still in the Trieste Area. The barracks we took over were in a terrible state, particularly noticeable after having lived at Opicina for so long, and it says much for the morale of the squadron that we were able to transform it into something that was at least bearable.
    For some time now my army rank had been Full Corporal, or Tech Corporal as I was known in the squadron. My responsibilities were twofold. In the first place I was responsible for seeing that all the stores necessary to run a squadron of Sherman tanks were kept up to date and I was the liaison between the mechanics and the Base Store Depots. My second responsibility was to keep the squadron leader, Major 'Loopy' Kennard, completely informed at all times as to the state of readiness of all the vehicles under his command.
    Every morning I would set up the plan board in his office showing which, if any, vehicles were 'off the road'. This was vital information, as at the drop of a hat the squadron could be called onto the streets of Trieste to keep the peace. 'Loopy', or to give him his full title, Lieutenant Colonel Sir George Arnold Ford Kennard, 3rd Baronet, was quite a character then, and even now and his biography entitled simply 'Loopy' makes very good reading.
    At the time in question he was sufficiently satisfied with my services to both him and the squadron to ask me to stay on in the army after I was due for demob. To induce me to stay he offered, as a bribe if you like, very rapid promotion, mentioning that it was quite common for a Quartermaster Sergeant to be made up to an officer in a very short time. I was not to be tempted, however, as the delights of London called and I was looking forward to life as a civilian. After the war I wrote to him and his delightful reply is at the back of my album.
    October 1946

    On 19 October the same year I struck lucky in what must have been a regimental ballot. The Regimental Association was about to hold its first post-war reunion, and as Winston Churchill was the honorary colonel the affair had to be done in style. Twenty men drawn from all ranks were sent home from Italy to be present on the night, and wonder of wonders, I was one of four corporals to travel a total of six days to attend the dinner.
    We left Monfalcone on the Wednesday, got into London on Friday evening and turned up at the dinner on Saturday. By Monday we were on our way back, arriving back at camp on Wednesday evening. Of course I was able to fit some time in at home, and the dinner itself, held at the Connaught Rooms in Holborn, with Winston Churchill in attendance, was quite an experience.
    From the Regimental Diaries: '8th Oct The Rgt was inspected by the Corps Commander Lt General Sir John Harding.'
    The Regiment was visited by the Corps Commander, Lt General Sir John Harding, and the photo in my album brings it all back to me because I was in my office at the time. As I peeped out of the window to see what was going on I actually saw them take the photo. It’s particularly interesting to me today as it shows Busty, Loopy and Chesty Reed, the RSM.
    December 1946

    On New Year's Eve we were still at Monfalcone and a photo in the album shows seven of the lads, including myself, at the local fairground. We were at a rifle range that took your photograph if you hit the target and, much to our surprise, it actually worked!
    January 1947

    In January l947, just three months short of four years from the time I set sail to North Africa, I was posted home to Barnard Castle in Northumberland. I arrived just in time for the worst winter in some people's living memory and spent a large amount of time digging trains out of snowdrifts. For almost three months I then kicked my heels until in March I was finally released to return to civilian life.
    February 1947

    England was in a state of crisis as fuel was almost unobtainable. Rail travel ground to a halt. Heavy snowstorms and sub-zero temperatures made our barracks a place of purgatory and there was not a single toilet that worked in the barracks. We spent all day digging trains out of snowdrifts and as virtually everyone in the camp was on the point of being de-mobbed, rank meant nothing at all. For the first time in my army career I saw officers under the rank of captain being ordered to join snow-clearing parties and issued with spades to do some of the digging themselves!
    March 1947

    The last three months of my army life was boring to say the least, and I welcomed any chance to do something different. This probably accounted for the fact that I must have volunteered for the job of prisoner’s escort, of which details now follow.
    While I was fighting in Italy, somebody who shall be nameless had apparently been a naughty boy back in England and had been sentenced to a term in Lincoln jail. He’d just finished his sentence (two years) and I as 'Corporal in charge of Escort' plus one other trooper were to meet up with him at the prison and escort him back to the army at Darlington.
    The ex-prisoner lived in London and as we had to change stations at King's Cross I agreed to let him visit his folks in Caledonian Road before we finally took him back to camp. Mindful of the fact that if I lost a prisoner it was a court martial offence I took no chances and we kept him on handcuffs all the way to his house and afterwards all the way back to barracks.
    Demobilisation

    The long-awaited day eventually arrived. From Barnard Castle I travelled by train to York, where my official demob took place. The large hall where I made my goodbyes was packed with hundreds of men trying on the latest that Montague Burton had to offer, although if I remember rightly you could have any colour suit providing it was navy or brown and any style providing it was single breasted or double breasted! I had been in the army for four and a half years, and as dad, G-d rest his soul, would have said, 'It's enough already'. It was time to go home.
    Three months after I was demobbed I received a payment from the War Office of six shillings and four pence. This was accompanied by a pay form that explained that the money in question was two days' ration allowance for escorting a prisoner back to Darlington from a jail in Lincoln!
    And so I come to the end of this unlikely saga. I had packed a lot into the years between 1923 and 1947, and at the age of 24 was ready to start my life all over again.
     
  5. Ron Goldstein

    Ron Goldstein WW2 Veteran WW2 Veteran

    Early Army days, October 1942 (33)

    The long awaited buff envelope had arrived on our doormat a fortnight before informing me that I had been called up into His Majesty's Army and that I was to report to the Beds and Herts Infantry Training Regiment at Bury St. Edmunds in Suffolk.
    The Army had thoughtfully provided a railway ticket (ominously a single, one way only) and on arriving at Bury St.Edmunds we were met at the station by a three ton lorry, our first acquaintance with this favoured form of military transport.
    We got to the barrack gates, dismounted and formed up into ragged ranks for identification against a master roll on a clipboard held by a very important looking sergeant.
    Allocated to various platoon numbers we then marched through the barracks to a series of catcalls coming from young men in denim uniform lining our route.
    "Go home while you can you stupid b******s!" was but a mild example of what we were subjected to and it was only weeks later that we realised the troops who 'gave us the bird' on our entry into camp had only themselves been in the army for two weeks and that this was a favourite pastime every Thursday lunch time when the new intake arrived at the Depot.
    On this Thursday however I was not to know about such things and found myself looking around me and absorbing like a piece of blotting paper all the atmosphere of an army camp in wartime.
    We were marched around the perimeter of a large parade ground getting various items of kit on the way and were eventually broken into squads of about twenty strong and allocated to squad leaders. My particular squad leader was a sergeant, looking as tough as old nails. He marched us to our barrack hut and then gave us a short lecture based roughly on the "You play ball with me and I'll play ball with you" syndrome. He then told us to fall out and get our gear into the hut.
    As luck would have it, I was the last person to file into the hut, and found my way impeded by what looked like a pair of size ten army boots worn by this imposing sergeant. "Your name's Goldstein, isn't it?" he demanded. "Jewish, aren't you?" he continued. Everything I had ever imagined concerning anti-Semitism immediately came to mind and with much misgivings I promptly replied "So what!"
    "Don't be a bloody idiot," he replied, "My name's Kusevitsky!" (or some such equally Jewish sounding name).
    Within seconds he had established the fact that my new comrades would soon find out that their Platoon Commander was Jewish, and therefore in order to avoid complaints of favoritism he would have to be extra tough with me during training, but that I should understand the motives behind it and ignore the harassing. When the course eventually finished we had a drink together and had some fun out of the situation.
    The six weeks primary training passed in a flash, my main memories of this period being those of inoculations, usually performed three at a time and the strange diet.My new found friends soon discovered that I couldn't eat bacon and used to arrange to sit next to me in the dining hall.
    Once we'd had our jabs and had learnt how to look reasonably presentable in uniform we were allowed to go into town in the evening and we used to swagger there in groups of about six strong.
    We learnt very quickly that the cheapest place to get a meal off duty was at the Y.M.C.A or the Salvation Army, affectionately known as the Sally Ann and we all became heavy smokers, lung cancer not having even been heard of in those heady days.
    Whilst at Bury St. Edmunds we were given various psychological tests and apparently it was discovered that I had an aptitude for reading Morse code for when the course finished and the 'postings' were put up on the camp notice board I found that I had been transferred to a Royal Artillery Driver/Wireless Operator training unit in Whitby, in Yorkshire.
     
  6. Ron Goldstein

    Ron Goldstein WW2 Veteran WW2 Veteran

    Keeping a diary in wartime, 4th QOH in Italy & 49th LAA in Egypt (34)
    Occasionally, on this site, I get my knuckles slightly rapped for admitting that I kept a diary during my days ‘up front’.
    I admit it was stupid of me, perhaps I justified it at the time by saying to myself “if it looks like I’m going to be taken prisoner then I will throw them away ” but in reality it was remiss of me and I hang my head in shame.
    But……………..
    Looking back as I do now, over 60 years later, I find them of great use in propping up my memory and in providing me with a 100% reliable source of reference. Take the following as an example, written in Italy as the war ended.
    Sunday 22nd. April 1945
    Woke to find mortar crew right at my head in yard right in front of casa. Rations came up with T.R's kit (?). More prisoners. Slung my 'spare' rifle. Moved into fields.

    On this particular day I was literally woken up by the sharp crack of the mortars being fired at an enemy who could have been no more than 500 yards away. I remember feeling distinctly aggrieved that the Infantry mortar crew had not had the common decency to wake us up and to give us a chance to move out of the way while they fought their own private battle with their German counterparts!
    On the reference to the ‘spare rifle’ anyone in the line, that is anyone who was anywhere near the enemy, usually had two lots of ‘kit’. The first set of kit was the official stuff that one had been issued with by the Army. This would consist of, for example, 1 Large Pack, 1 Small Pack, 1 Large Mess Tin, 1 Small Mess Tin , 4 Blankets, 1 Groundsheet , etcetera, etcetera.
    The second lot of ‘kit’ that one owned was gradually accumulated along the way and was hidden in the truck or tank whenever a kit inspection was looming on the horizon.
    A typical list of un-official kit would probably include such items as extra blankets, camp bed, eating utensils such as enamel plates and non-Army cutlery, a suitcase, a German rifle, binoculars, in fact anything that could help to supply a modicum of comfort whilst trying to survive in very unpleasant surroundings.
    The reference to ‘more prisoners’ referred to the small pockets of German soldiers anxious to give themselves up to our unit. It was particularly shocking to see the many young boy soldiers, some of them looked no more than 13 or 14 and made us realise that Hitler was really scraping the barrel at that stage of the war.
    The reference to 'T.R.s kit' is now completely meaningless but perhaps on some wonderful day yet to come 'T.R' will come out of the woodwork and say 'Here I am, it was me!'
    The reference to 'moved into fields' meant that we moved away from the farmhouse area probably to get away from the mortar firing Infantry.
    Thank you Diary!
     
  7. Ron Goldstein

    Ron Goldstein WW2 Veteran WW2 Veteran

    The day I should have died, 4th QOH in Italy (35)

    Wednesday 18 April 1945
    "Stonked near wood for solid hour. Corporal Todd wounded badly in head when air-burst caught their Honey. Farmhouses burning, stuck in ditch."

    The entry in my diary is fairly innocuous. Checking back using Regimental Diaries I can see that we were with the 2nd Armoured Brigade column in the Reno bridgehead area and that I had been with the 4th Hussars for about three weeks.
    The day had started with my tank commander, Busty Thomas MM, going sick, I believe with an old wound, and he had been replaced for the day by Sgt. Broderick. Shortly after moving off at dawn we came under mortar fire from dead ahead, and Broderick craftily directed Hewie (Steve Hewitt, our driver) to place us under a knoll, or hillock, that was directly in front of the wood from which the fire appeared to be coming.
    As I've already explained in an earlier tale, our tank was an old Stuart tank from the days of desert warfare and its turret had been removed to make it into a light reconnaissance vehicle. Protection from shell and mortar fire was not one of its major priorities.
    It soon became apparent that we were safe, or relatively safe, as long as we stayed where we were. Every time we tried to move, however, the mortars landed within yards of us and we saw other tanks getting hit only yards away.
    They say that when you are about to drown all your previous life flashes in front of you. Well, that is exactly how I felt that day and I could almost read the article that would appear in the local Hackney and Kingsland Gazette. "We regret to announce the death of trooper Ron Goldstein on active service in Italy. It is ironic that whilst on leave in Egypt some six months earlier he had tried to see his brother-in-law Jack Rosen, without success and only a few days before his death he had also tried to see his brother Mick, a Sgt. Major fighting with the Jewish Brigade, but again without results."
    I just can't remember how long we remained sheltered in this manner but the German mortar crew ahead of us must have found some more interesting targets and Broderick was able to get us away to regain our position with the rest of the Squadron.
    By the time the long day had finished and whatever we had to do had been done I realised that I had survived and that I was therefore not due to be killed that day after all. Looking back now over this period of my life, I realise that it was pretty much the toss of a coin that decided whether we lived or died. On that day my coin landed the right way up.
     
  8. Ron Goldstein

    Ron Goldstein WW2 Veteran WW2 Veteran

    The 78th Div goes to Egypt to re-train & re-form (36)

    This brief episode relies largely on my Diary notes and starts after our stay near Rome.
    Thursday 13th. July 1944
    Div flashes taken off us, kit packed and on lorry ready for train journey to Taranto. Rumours seem to bank on Egypt.
    Friday 14th. July 1944
    Left area at 1230, 30 men and kit to a cattle truck. Heat terrific and not feeling too well. Hope it passes over. Larry in same truck.
    Saturday 15th. July 1944
    Not much sleep, passing all the old places. San Angelo, Cassino, Mignano, Caserta. Life in truck is pretty hectic and dirty! Arrived Barletta.
    Sunday 16th. July 1944
    Arrived in Taranto at 2 o'clock. 5 mile march to Div. area with most of equipment. Blazing sun made it pretty grim. Changed all my gear and handed in Big Pack.
    Tuesday 18th. July 1944
    Marched to docks, seven miles, on board "S.S.Empires Pride" by 12 o'clock. Sailed at 1 o'clock. Boys call the ship "The Altmark" due to the excessive heat and discipline. Slept naked in hammock.
    Wednesday 19th. July 1944
    Heat still deadly. Boat drill lasted over an hour. Action stations when plane was fired at. Sleeping on deck tonight. Queued for hour in NAAFI.
    Thursday 20th. July 1944
    Violent stomach cramp due to food. All the lads on my deck the same. Boat drill deadly as usual. Won 10/- at Housey. Passing coast, believe it to be Libya. Sleeping below tonight. Handed money (Lira) in.
    Friday 21st. July 1944
    No lifeboat drill. Met Syd Bofkin ( a friend from my boy’s club days0 on deck. On ships guard 6-8 p.m. and 12-2 am. Writing this whilst guarding Armoury. Docking on morrow.
    Saturday 22nd. July 1944
    Last to disembark at Alexandria. Trucks took us to transit (camp) near Mersa Matru. First sight and taste of desert (in Egypt anyway) . Pretty whacked.
    Egypt
    Following my visit to Rome the rumours of a "big move" came to be founded on fact, and on July l8th we found ourselves at sea on the S.S. Empire’s Pride and our destination turned out to be Alexandria in Egypt. We were there for just over a month to re-equip, retrain and have some leave in the fleshpots of Cairo. Whilst we were there the 78 Div Infantry set about making a mess of Cairo because of the excessive ‘bull****’ that was imposed, maily by the Redcaps (Military Police)
    In my Album is a snap is of Bob Dunne and I in Alexandria with bananas which were then non-existant at home!
    As we were out of the line I was able to get off the wireless for a whole month, but instead found myself roped in as a jeep driver to the C.O., one Major Mouland. This was fun, and I was able to dash about the desert between Alexandria and Cairo at speeds of over a hundred miles per hour with the windscreen down to get the maximum cooling effect.
    Monday 31st. July 1944
    Left camp at 0730 arrived Cairo at 1230. Visited Jewish clubs, ate Kosher Food for first time in years!. Bed and Breakfast for 35 piastres. First impressions of Cairo O.K.
    August 1944
    Of my week's leave in Cairo I most vividly remember a day trip to the Pyramids and the Sphinx and the pleasant days we spent swimming at the pool at Heliopolis. In my Album is the standard photo of me on a camel in front of the Pyramids.
    On the l6th of August l944 I celebrated my 2lst birthday by having a drink with an American seaman in a bar in Cairo.
    I had just dropped the C.O. off in the city and was killing time before picking him up for the trip back to camp at Ishmalia. By one of those remarkable coincidences that used to occur in wartime, the seaman at the bar, a John Merry of 383O North Carmac St Philadelphia, U.S.A., happened to be a crew member of a Liberty ship called the SS Homer Lee. When at the end of our stay in Egypt we boarded ship for our return to Italy the ship turned out to be, yes, you have guessed it, the afore-mentioned Homer Lee and as a result I had the pleasure of access to the crews' quarters and some smashing food.
    By September we were on our way back to Italy.
    September 1944
    Friday 1st. September 1944
    Swimming in an adjacent dock, very enjoyable. Read and finished "Crowthers of Bankdam" by Thomas Armstrong. Very little discipline on board. Wrote letter to folks. Heat pretty deadly, stripped to the waist.
    Saturday 2nd. September 1944
    Ship still in docks. Last night whilst I was on 4-6 stag there was a bit of trouble and the ship was 'boarded' by U.S. Military Police, the ship's carpenter was taken off. Swimming was very oily today. Handed in 85 Piastres.
    Sunday 3rd. September 1944
    Ship sailed out of Alexandria at 9.30 am. Balloon was brought out to us by motor boat, already inflated! Convoy formed up about 5 miles out. Our present course is N.W.
    We actually set sail on September 3rd, five years to the day that war broke out, and I must have remembered with irony, Mum, G-d rest her soul, saying in the kitchen in Boreham Street, "At least Ronnie won't have to go!"
    Monday 4th. September 1944
    Sea still calm. Course West. Infantry officer held quiz and to my astonishment I came 6th and won a bar of soap! Concert (of sorts) in the afternoon. In the evening Jack Merry took us to his cabin and showed us various 'souvenirs'.
    Tuesday 5th. September 1944
    Course N.W, obviously heading for Italy. A bit of action stations and boat drill. Another quiz but no luck this time. The ship is doing quite a bit of rolling but so far I feel OK. Jack Merry is a very good friend in need.
    Wednesday 6th. September 1944
    Heading for Sicily. The sea is the calmest I've ever seen. My first sight of flying fish. Played Solo Whist all day, lost 5/-. At 1130 pm battle stations sounded but nothing happened.
    Thursday 7th. September 1944
    Convoy split up about 4 pm, half joined another Gibraltar bound convoy. Steamed into Augusta at 6 pm and anchored a mile off shore. After dinner did a bit of swimming off the side of the ship. Grand!
    Friday 8th. September 1944
    Left Augusta at 9 am and hugged the coast going North all day. Played cards the greater part of the day. In the evening a storm blew up and we nearly lost our hatch tarpaulin Not much sleep.
    Saturday 9th. September 1944
    Following the coast round all day. At 6pm entered Taranto harbour and anchored alongside an Italian cruiser of pretty heavy armament. It is still uncertain as to whether or not we disembark here.
    Sunday 10th. September 1944
    At 9 am disembarked and hung around waiting for my truck to be unloaded. At 6pm a 3 tonner took us to the Div. area where we met the advance party. Dumped kit and came back to Taranto for a show. Met Nat Krieger. (A friend since my Boreham Street days)
    By the end of September we were 'back in business' in the Pescara area and our days in Egypt were as though they had never been
     
  9. Ron Goldstein

    Ron Goldstein WW2 Veteran WW2 Veteran

    Giving this thread a bump to remind you that any time a link to the BBC People's War fails, you can acess the site by using the following link;

    http://www.bbc.co.uk/history/ww2peopleswar/user/16/u520216.shtml

    This is courtesy of WAYBACK and will also provide links to ALL the articles I posted on the BBC site before they reneged on their promiset to maintain search facilities on the site
    (Scroll down to "Stories contributed by Ron Goldstein"

    Ron
     

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