Veteran chaps (WW2 & others) - What Did You Like About Your War?

A

So... if it's not an odd question, and taking as read that the bulk of warfare must by it's nature be pretty inherently awful: Whether you fought in WW2, or any of the conflicts since, what were the positives, for you personally, of being part of such things?
If you are actually asking for examples of "the good bits" of wartime experiences then I had many and I like to think that over the years I have managed to get a few of these memories into print.

Such as this one...........completely true and I still think it was funny !
You’ve just reminded me of a concert party organised by our 84 Battery Entertainments Officer in Sicily.

If my memory serves me rightly it was young Lt.Whitfield and he had this one brilliant idea.

“What we are going to do” he proudly told us (us being his not over-enthusiastic band of 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 some 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 folk lore,
mine anyway!



Ron

 

The part I enjoyed most was that I survived. There were those days when things went badly and I wondered if I was going to make it, but then we all must have felt like that at times. Can't remember being really happy tho', just got on with it.

Jim

 

Adam
The opportunity to travel to many places and enjoy a different style of life as we knew it - four sea cruises -FREE - two of which were in luxury, all white and illuminated ships - enjoy meeting so many interesting people - especially Pope Pius X11 - hear and see so many artistes do their stuff - Gigli - Schwartzkopf - Tebaldi - stand in awe on top of Monte Terminillo near Rieti at dawn and see the whole world turn pink as the sun rose - the magnificent Atlas Mountains - Etna - Vesuvious - Appenines - Alps - and now live near the Rockies - stayed in so many cities - Algiers - Bone - Tunis - Naples - Rome - Vienna -and many exotic "digs" such as a Millionaires mansion near Milan - Schonbrunn Palace in Vienna.....

Oh sure - there were many heartbreaks - many lost friends - bit of hurt - BUT those five years were diamonds in growing up from schoolboy to manhood - and all Free - and as a Scot - this had great appeal - as I have continued this travel with journeys to Hawaii - Fiji - Australia - New Zealand - South Africa and all over Europe- and many places in the US of A - but the five years in the Tank Corps - were magic
Cheers

 

I can do no better than to quote from my diary.

"For a fair section of the journey up to Gazala we travelled by train,-
The trains in question bore little resemblance to our idea of trains used
for passenger transport back in England, they were very spartan and
basic,- they did however have seating of a kind, just bare wooden slats,
the engine itself was only capable of a speed of about 10 mph at best,
but more often than not 5 mph ,- there was,of course, no heating and
once the sun had dropped below the horizon it could get unbelievably cold,
this, and the slow speed together with the onset of hunger and tiredness
served to make it a journey of extreme discomfort but resulted in one of
the funniest of my time on active service,- as I said, the slow progress of
the train and the gnawing cold made you want to do something to get the
circulation moving,- as the train was only doing (at times), only5 mph,
why not jump off and run at the side of it?-this, some of us did,- the
trouble was, we were in the end coach,- suddenly, the train began to
gather speed when it came to a down gradient,- we all managed to
clamber back on board except one lad who was a little more rotund than
the rest of us who found it was no easy matter to generate enough speed
to catch up with the now much increased speed of the train, his somewhat
bowed legs were pumping away desperately and his cheeks puffing away
with increasing rapidity,- he was fighting a losing battle and his shouting,
arm waving form diminished and gradually disappeared from view, he, of
course, couldn't get lost,because he only had to follow the railway line to
the point where we detrained for the night, which could have been an hour
later,- the poor unfortunate lad came into view about an hour or so later,
tired, dishevelled, miserable, but most decidedly warm.
It was this kind of incident
which quite definitely helped to sustain our morale, because, by now, we
were getting closer to where the 8th Army had made it's defensive stand,
which was the Gazala line,- our frame of mind was understandably one of
apprehension and uncertainty,- I think it was after a couple of days or so
that we reached the place where the rail line terminated. Sollum I seem to
remember, then it was back to travelling by troop carrying trucks".

 

Wilf

To be quite honest, my first experience of a North African train journey would not qualify for being one of the things that I "liked about my war" but my memory of the star studded night sky still lives with me today.

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’!

Ron

 

Adam.

As I have said in another thread, comradeship engendered in War-time is unique and had a lasting inpact and influence on the years I have lived as a civilian. During the War was aware of the bond between those who you were with in the various situations you faced, but it was not until I had returned to civilian life that I realised how central it was in my life at that time and that it was a lifeline that gave me strength and stability enabling me to do what ever was required of me.

Never in my life afterwards have I reached or enjoyed that degree of shared closeness and reliance, except when I got married. Yes in my career and social life there have been good friendships and dependable and loyal colleagues but not to the unique degree that living day-to-day in the atmosphere of shared dangers, shared grouses, shared challenges of fitness and endurance, and shared determination to do what we had to do and survive at the end of it all.

A priceless legacy from the worst period of my life . . . A very big positive!

Joe Brown.

 

The question:
"What did you like about your war?"

As answer:
For those who survived ... possibly the end of the war and peacetime?
.

 

Off the top of my head I could probably list more things that I hated than I liked.

That said I'm glad I volunteered and had the opportunity to put right a personal wrong that had to wait 17 years. Would I do it again, knowing what I know now-Yes.

I'll get back to with a list of 'likes' assuming I can think of any.

 

Likes of a personal nature and things that made me laugh...quite a bit. [edit] I appear to have gotten on a bit of a roll

NBC Alarms going off in Kuwait when we were on the Iraqi border. Scud Missile launches were detected and watching a 'Journo' trying to get her kit on and laughing to my Troop Commander saying, 'What the f**k is that!'

Trying to find one of our Dets in the Kuwaiti desert at night using a GPS and being proper lost. Getting out of the Land Rover and nearly falling down a rather deep tank ditch getting back in the Rover to be confronted by some pissed off arabs in uniform pointing guns at us followed by a mass of relief when we realised they were Kuwaitis and not Iraqis.

Having to tow one of our vehicles over the border and laughing that it was such a great way for them to go to war.

Parked up just over the border watching Iraqi kids distract some American Marines while their mates nicked kit they chose to hang off the outside of their wagon.

In a harbour area at dusk before taking Shaibah Air Base Laughing at a Royal Engineer coming back from a shovel recce only to be fired on by an American with a .50 cal.

My troop were some of the first to arrive at Basra Airport after the RRF had gone through the place like a plague of locus only to find a bank in the departures lounge - Yes we tried to break into it !

Finding a water bousa (sp) (Like a fuel tanker only containing water) on the runway at Basra Airport and using it as a dip pool.

My Troop Commander hot wiring an Iraqi Police Motorbike at the airport.

Arriving at Basra Palace to watch the Royal Marines leave with gold chandliers and other expensive items strapped their wagons.

Stealing MRE's off the American SF at Basrah Airport by the box load

Taking some comms kit back to DIV HQ and seeing a French Officer and saying to my mate a bit too loud ' What the f**k is he doing out here?'

Getting shot at by Fedayeen near the Sheraton Hotel in a Black Watch complex. Stood froze to the spot and laughing in disbelief at the same time saying 'are they shooting at us?' and then watching my Staffy jump in the Rover to drive off without me or the Boss.

Finding a fridge in a outbuilding in the Palace complex and no one wanting to open it as we had all convinced ourselves the rotten smell was a body in the fridge most likely with its head cut off. It turned out to be a rotten joint of meat.

My Troop Commander telling me the office in Basrah Palace needed furniture and the look on his face the following morning when he turned up to find half of the departure lounge furniture from Basrah Airport in the office and him saying 'We can't have all this, this is better furniture than the OC has....even my desk has a lock with a key!'

Driving round the palace ring road trying to get air in the Land Rover over the humped back bridge- 90 mph was the fastest I did it in but no air.

Playing football every Friday with some local street kids when some us did shotgun for the Padre to a church in Basrah.

I remember by first bacon roll and my first shower after going without both for around 3 months, two things I still appreciate today.

Looking in the Shatt al Arab for plastic mines floating by only to throw rocks at them to see who could get one to explode.

After what seemed an age in Iraq and not a sign of a living camel. Only a dead one on approach to a bridge between Bsrah and the Airport IIRC that gradually rotted away over the weeks and everytime you approached it you had to close the windows and speed up that little bit earlier because of the stench. Anyway camels-Two vehicles driving down to Um Qasar (Port) on the MSR at full pelt to see a herd of camels. Slamming on the brakes and jumping out to get a picture next to one when this arab comes walking up from out of nowhere with a camel fitted with a saddle 'You sir are going to become rich!' $10 a go we all take turns getting on it to have a picture taken and by the time we leave there must have been 10 to 15 British vehicles pulled up waiting for their go !

Having races through Basrah betting each other who could get to one of our Dets first which quickly got stamped on once we were reported for driving down pavements to get passed traffic jams.

Driving passed some form of a metal works and watching 20 to 30 Iraqis bomb burst all over the place as they were being chased by members of the Black Watch. I remember slowing down and asking their RSM if he wanted a hand and then quickly driving off again once he started swearing.

Coming back to the Palace one day to see some Burger King and Pizza Hut wrappers and saying' 'F**k off, you are having a giraffe' only to be told the Americans have a mobile Burger King and Pizza Hut at Shaibah Airbase. 'Right, we're going back out!' I'll never forget that whopper, infact I have a picture of me with the goods !

Laying on one of the Palace roofs at night staring at the stars, texting my wife and dreaming of home only for the peace and quite to be broken by gun fire-Saddam Husseins sons had been killed.

That'll do....I'll not have anything to put in my memoirs if I go on

 

Even in the midst of bloody action there was sometimes light relief that made one simply delighted to be alive and a witness to the events that were taking place.

Such as the day I took part in the "Cavalry Charge at the Argenta Gap"
Picture the scene.....

The date, as near as I can get it, was the 18th of April 1945, just a few weeks before the end of hostilities in Europe.

My unit was the 4th Queen's Own Hussars, BBC - WW2 People's War - Joining the 4th Queen's Own Hussarswhich, at that moment in time, was part of the "Kangaroo Army" of the 2nd Armoured Brigade.


For the past few weeks we had been moving relatively slowly through a landscape that consisted of hills and rivers. Suddenly we came to the Argenta Gap and immediately it was 'pierced' we were able to see the plains and nothing seemed to stand in the way of our advance.

The order must have been given 'Brigade, in open order, Advance!' because all the vehicles in the column (which included my own “Honey” tank) literally fanned out into one straight long line and it was the most wonderful sight that I had ever seen in my (then) short life.

With coloured Squadron pennants flying from our aerial masts and with some of the tank crews even firing pistol shots into the air (a la the old cowboy films) we raced forward at high speed, relatively un-obstructed by an enemy who by that time must have realised that the Italian campaign was almost over for them.

It is almost sixty-eight years since I experienced this event and yet it still raises the hair on the back of my neck!

Ron

 

Funny moments - lots of them - when least expected....

after a dinner of Dehydrated meat at Bone Algeria - the whole squadron spent the afternoon running to the latrine - it was not good - but the senior NCO's dined later- so it was peaceful when they ran to the latrines and being heavier than most - the main beam cracked and the SSM - SSQM - Sgt Cook and Sgt LAD fell in the mire - we giggled for some time afterwards....

Italy - we lost a tank after coming out of battle - The Tank took off down the mountain-
side- flying over one ditch - squashing flat a driverless jeep - the driver then asked if anyone had a spare "Green' Envelope as he wanted to send his jeep home to his Mum !

A dozen young girls at Strassburg Austria having a shower party in our showers - the Lcpl
in charge pulled a string which caused a Hornet nest to fall and the Hornets looking for the perpetrators - the door opened and a dozen young girls flew out in all sorts of undress including the full Monty .....

As I said - Magic
Cheers

 

My Dad is no longer here to speak for himself but I'm sure if he was here and I asked him this very question his top answer would be the Women folks that he met!

I think he enjoyed being abroad also, but he was damn mad the war took him away from his apprenticeship at Newmarket. He had always wanted to be a jockey.

I think I must have inherited his roving eye though. I have recently just paid attention to Ron G's profile pic! I would have been most appreciative seeing this gent walk by in uniform.

 

Amberdog

I think I must have inherited his roving eye though. I have recently just paid attention to Ron G's profile pic! I would have been most appreciative seeing this gent walk by in uniform.:wink:
My wife of 62 years is also amused !

Ron

ps
Just realised there have been other Maria's on the internet !
http://www.ww2talk.com/forum/veteran-accounts/9722-has-any-one-else-had-coincidence-like.html

 

In Austria around 1946 all the senior chaps had gone home and we were being slowly reinforced - One newcomer was Major straight out from the UK - white knees never heard a shot fired etc - this was our new Squadron Commander- who thought that our discipline needed smartening up - he was right of course as we were a shower just waiting for our numbers to come up..

Soon he determined that as an old Cavalry regiment - we should aquire horses and resume riding etc - many could still remember riding a horse and so they were 'voluntered " to exercise the horses each morning at dawn....while the rest of us stayed comfortably in bed.

One sergeant who shall be nameless - had borrowed a horse from another squadron - and suggested that this horse was far better than the nag the Major was riding - the Major bought this tale and the squadron was alert to be on parade while the horses were exercised the next day - and so it was that we watched the parade come through the village - turn to cross the river - enter the river....and it was at that point that this borrowed Horse with the Major aboard..decided it was bath time and rolled over depositing the Major into the icy water.....the sergeant went off to the Uk that day - and the Major-
well no one knew where he finished up as we never saw him again....
Cheers

 

My late Squadron Leader, “Loopy” Kennard certainly used to have a “posh” accent, not so much “cut glass” but more of an exaggerated drawl.

I don’t remember telling this particular story about him before but I think it’s too good not to place on record while I am still here to tell it

In early 1946 “A” Squadron, the 4th QOH were stationed at Monfalcone, not far from Trieste.

“Loopy” Kennard had recently re-joined the Regiment after many years as a POW and his wife Cecelia had come out to Italy to keep him company. (He was eventually to marry three further times, as his biography shows)

The Squadron was lined up on the parade ground for the early morning parade when the sound of horses hooves could be heard approaching. To my left I saw Loopy’s wife with another female rider.

“Loopy” called out in his inimitable manner “Good morning dear, have a good ride?”

To the immense enjoyment of all ranks on parade his wife called out “No I didn’t !….....I got caught in a bloody shower and I’m fxxxxxxg soaked !!! “

A roar of laughter engulfed the Squadron, which “Loopy” made no attempt to halt and the memory stays with me to today !

Ron

 

During the last push to finish off the North African Campaign a large wadi(ditch) was encountered which needed bridging - but the Germans had registered this Wadi and the sappers were falling like snow flakes - the wadi took on the title of St.Peter's crossing -

Sometime later very plummy voice was heard to ask - "why does this Tunisian Wadi have an English name ?

to be answered by a voice heavy with an Irish accent " to be sure -you try crossing there to-day and your'e sure to meet St.Peter "

Cheers

 

Marion Sanford often mentions this episode as one of his favorite moments in the war, eating cheese and crackers with a little French girl of about nine or ten years of age.

Here is an excerpt from the book that describes it. The Battle of Mortain had just ended and he had driven through Falaise, witnessing some of the worst the war had to offer. This is during the drive across France, not long after the 30th ID had crossed the Seine and he had been without meaningful rest for about a week by then.

I was still attached to a group from one of the line platoons and we spent the next three days driving toward Belgium. We slept and ate in the halftrack most of the time, stopping very little and then when we did, it was mainly to fuel up or to let the infantry catch up with us. We had pulled off onto the side of the road one mid-afternoon for a short break in the shade. Some of the men were eating K-Rations on the ground around the halftrack and I was sitting on the running board eating cheese and crackers. I looked up from my feast and saw a young French girl, maybe nine or ten, standing off to the side staring at us.

She had slipped up on us and we didn’t notice where she came from. She was a pretty little blonde girl, but she was thin like she had not had enough to eat for a long time. I watched her for a moment or two and could tell that she was hungry. I looked at her and grinned. The next thing I knew, she walked over and sat down on my knee and I offered her some of my cheese and crackers. She almost looked like she wanted to grab it from me, but she was polite about it and said “Merci, merci.” We sat there for a while, eating but not trying to make much conversation.

I had not been able to shave for several days and had grown a short, scruffy beard. Some crumbs got caught in my beard and little girl playfully brushed them away, giggling as she did so. Every so often, she would lean over and kiss me on my cheek and say “merci.” The other men around us started picking at me and snickering. I didn’t pay them any attention because I was enjoying the moment. I would not take anything in the world for that quiet few minutes in the war, eating with a pretty little girl sitting on my knee. It was pure joy.

We soon got word to move out and she acted like she wanted me to go back to her house, but I couldn’t. The guys were still ribbing me some, so I asked them, “Well, what would you have done?” I knew full well that they would have done the same thing because they could not have turned her down, either. I motioned to her that we had to go and gave her what cheese I had left. I often wondered what happened to her, but since I didn’t learn her name, I could not have found her even if I had tried.

© Copyright 2012

 

good day van poop.re;what did you like about the war.? like driver-op i to enjoyed that i survived. the other side of things,was i met some great mates.and kept in touch after demob.and the chance to see other countries and meet other people.and it goes on.i have met you and other menbers on ww2 talk,that cannot be bad,all the best bernard85