Operation Husky – Sicily

The decision to invade Sicily was agreed by the Western Allies at the Casablanca Conference in January 1943. ‘Operation Husky’ was to be a combined amphibious and airborne attack scheduled for that summer under the supreme command of General Dwight D. Eisenhower.
The Allies began air attacks on targets in Sicily and Italy in the early summer of 1943. They also attacked the Italian island of Pantellaria, which surrendered to the British 1st Division who arrived there on 11 June.

The Allied convoys concentrated near Malta on the 9 July and headed for Sicily’s southern beaches. The careful planning of the landings was slightly hindered by a storm, which slowed down the landing craft. The Italian defenders believed such weather conditions would deter any attempt of an invasion and were on a low state of alert.

Pontoon bridge being constructed from a landing craft to the shore. From the papers of Jim Williams.

Pontoon bridge being constructed from a landing craft to the shore. From the papers of Jim Williams.

The British 1st Airlanding Brigade mounted in 137 gliders, were the first to land. They were to seize the Ponte Grande Bridge south of Syracuse. These landings were, on the whole, unsuccessful. Of the 137 gliders, 69 came down in the sea, drowning some 200 men. A further 56 landed in the wrong area of Sicily and just 12 reached the target area and managed to take the bridge. The US paratroopers had difficulties too, the pilots were inexperienced and dust and anti-aircraft fire resulted in the 2,781 paratroopers being scattered over an area 80km radius.

The main amphibious landings involved three British divisions in the east and two US divisions in the west, all supported by heavy fire from off shore warships.

The British did not meet strong resistance from the Italian coastal troops and were able to bring tanks and artillery ashore ahead of schedule. By the end of the day 13th Corps had taken Syracuse and 30th Corps had secured Panchino.

A message to the Eighth Army from General Montgomery. From the papers of H.L. Barter.

A message to the Eighth Army from General Montgomery. From the papers of H.L. Barter.

The US divisions had a far more difficult landing, with stiff resistance from the Italians and German air attacks. Later in the day the Hermann Goering Panzer Division, with it’s 56 ton Tiger tanks, joined the defence, but the US 2nd Armored Division and US 18 Regimental Combat Team landed in the evening and the Americans managed to stand firm against the fierce fighting. Eventually, naval supporting gunfire forced the tanks to disperse.

The sudden appearance of so many paratroopers gave the appearance of a much greater invasion and the Axis defenders called for reinforcements.

By 12 July, the British had captured Augusta and Montgomery decided to head northwards, to the east of Mount Etna, to take Messina. The Commander of the US 7th Army, Lieutenant-General George S Patton, unhappy with this change of plan, was to fight westwards, towards Palermo. The Americans advanced well. They captured 53,000 prisoners and also the port of Palermo on July 22. This enabled the US 9th Division to land there, instead of on the southern beaches, and was valuable for receiving Allied supplies. Alexander ordered Patton to advance to Messina.

Meanwhile the British Eighth Army was making slow progress. The German paratroopers, with 88mm anti-tank guns, were a formidable enemy and the mountainous Sicilian countryside was hard to negotiate. The Highlanders fought hard for Biancavilla and the XIII Corps eventually took Catania and then Paterno.

The Canadians of Lord Tweedsmuir’s Hastings and Prince Edward Regiment managed to take the hill town of Assoro by scaling a cliff and taking their enemy completely by surprise and advanced to Leonforte, which fell to them on 22 July.

By August, the invasion of Sicily was almost complete. The race for Messina continued; the British were helped greatly by airborne forces landing ahead and saving bridges from destruction by the Axis troops. On 17 August, the US 3rd Division entered Messina at 10am, just 50 minutes before the arrival of the British Army. The Germans had been evacuated, but had left huge amounts of weapons, ammunition and fuel. The historic city of Messina had been ravaged by Allied bombs and after the invasion, by shells from the Italian mainland.

Operation Husky was a success. The Allies achieved their goal – the ‘soft underbelly’ of Europe had been exposed and the Mediterranean could be fully used as a sea route. The cost of casualties was high, though less than anticipated. The Allies lost more than 16,000 men and estimated that 164,000 Axis troops were either killed or taken prisoner.

Reloading with Italian POWs bound for North Africa from the papers of Jim Williams.

Reloading with Italian POWs bound for North Africa from the papers of Jim Williams.

Sicily in a mess. August 27, at the end of the campaign. From the papers of H.L. Barter.

Sicily in a mess. August 27, at the end of the campaign. From the papers of H.L. Barter.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bert Holt DFC served with the Glider Pilot Regiment. He was based in Sousse immediately before the campaign began and flew as second pilot. He was interviewed for the Centre in January 2000 by Dr Peter Liddle.

We flew to Sicily from Sousse. I flew a Waco with a friend of mine, carrying 16 soldiers of the Border Regiment. We were towed by a British plane called Albemarle which was a very nice aeroplane to be towed behind, and we set off for Sicily at night … via Malta. We had to fly over the centre of Malta, then take a compass course from there to land just on the south coast of Sicily.

We landed exactly where we were supposed to because the moon was not too bad. The only thing that worried us when we got near the ground was that our maps were coloured as if looking at the place in moonlight. Now Sicily didn’t look like these maps, so when we got down there it wasn’t a flat field – there were woods and stone walls, whereas the stone walls on the map looked like footpaths. So, what we had to do was land between trees, knock the wings off and hope to Christ that we stayed on one level.

Pages from Bert's log book pertinent to the Sicily Campaign.

Pages from Bert’s log book pertinent to the Sicily Campaign.

On approaching the island we were met by fires from what appeared to be Bofors guns. They were the same type of shell, explosion etc, that our Bofors made. We got a few holes in the wings, but nothing else.

On round figures it was said that 50 gliders landed on Sicily. The other 100 landed in the sea and that 100 were all towed by Americans, whereas of those that landed on the island, 35 were towed by British aircraft. I do sympathise a bit with the Americans. All these lads had only flown Dakotas in America, delivering letters and parcels. They had never seen a gun in their lives, so one can possibly excuse them with the barrage that they received when they hit Sicily.

On landing, we were to ensure that the Border Regiment knew exactly where they had to go and meet the rest of their chaps, so we made our way to the bridges which were just up the road from Syracuse, where we had landed … I got there by crawling through a tomato field, joined the soldiers of the Borders and the glider pilots that were already there, and took up positions on the bridge.

In the Syracuse area was a river and a canal and our, the job of the Army, was to hold the bridges covering these two streams so that the lads landing from the sea further south than Syracuse were able to get over and proceed through the island. We were there with some Paratroops but mostly with our successful landings by Horsas which landed round the bridge. There were about 65 to 70 soldiers defending these areas and we looked out for them and kept them away until the next day, or it might have been two days. On the third day we ran out of ammunition. We had to give ourselves up and the Italians came in, being very happy about the whole situation.

The Italians lined us up and asked us questions in Italian, which we didn’t understand. So they went through all our pockets and our gear, putting anything which they thought might be useful to themselves away. One of the Italians who was searching my equipment found a tin, an unopened tin, in my equipment and he asked me what was in it. I told him, in Italian, that it was food. “Oh”, he said, “good”. This tin had a tin opener with it and the Italian must have been hungry because he immediately opened the tin and when he looked inside he looked at what he thought was some sort of jelly. He put his finger in and put it in his mouth. It was actually solid methylated spirits. I still wear the bruise on my backside from what he did after that!

They put us all together and marched us up the road. We had marched for about two hours when we saw the seaborne troops, I think it was a Scottish Regiment, we saw the first lads coming towards us. We saw them pick up their rifles and drop down as if they were going to shoot us, so we shouted out, in great basic English, who we were – that we were English and not Italian. The Italian lads ran away. Some of them got killed by these Scots lads chasing them, and we finished off in Syracuse.

 

The diary of A.H.Lee, a Wireless Telegraphist on a Harbour Motor Defence Launch (HMDL) gives a strong insight into naval activity during the campaign. He arrived, from Sousse, at the south east corner of Sicily on 7 July 1943.

On the 11th (of July), we had the job of acting as ferry boat to none other than Lord Louis Mountbatten  (LLM) and one of the Brigadiers in charge of the operation. LLM is a very nice chap and I had a close up view of him for about an hour at very close range. I was standing right alongside him on our bridge.

That evening, on the 11th, I had the chance of listening in to the news from London. It was very good to hear how we were progressing. Incidentally, that is the only method we have of keeping in touch with the Sicilian news. After this bulletin, in particular, there was a short talk on the invasion and particular stress was laid on the craft used to navigate the correct beaches for our lads to land on. It was stated how difficult it was to manoeuvre these craft in heavy seas, the expert seamanship required, etc. etc. I felt quite pleased to think that, at long last, some person recognised the fact that we were doing some valuable work to help the war effort. The speaker was talking about us.

That night, we had air raids the whole period of darkness, just as we have had every other night since. None of us on board had any sleep for several nights after that, due to Jerry. The barrage was particularly heavy and shrapnel came down like rain.

One amusing incident I have forgotten to mention. When we pulled in to one of the bays to anchor for a few hours, there was a crowd of Italian soldiers standing on the shore waving white flags to us. Apparently they thought we were after their blood.

On the 13th July, we left the south east corner of Sicily, we called it Bank East, en route for Syracuse, a short trip of about one hour. Upon arrival there we had some more ferrying to do. This time our passengers were none other than the famous General Montgomery and Admiral Ramsay. They, I believe, were in complete charge of the whole job.

That night, we had a particularly heavy air attack. The flak that went up was so thick you could not put a finger in between the shell bursts. We saw nine planes brought down. (Who is afraid of fireworks and bangs now?).

On the 14th, we went aboard an English merchant ship which had been set on fire by jerry bombs and took off several guns. The ship was still on fire and the decks still hot.

Obtaining small guns such as Tommys, Lanchesters, Brownings, the Italian Breda, etc., was a job which we were continually executing. We raided several Italian packets and took off their Bredas. At present we have more guns on board than crew. We are rather fed up with the sight of armaments.

We are having air raids every night and I usually wear a steel helmet when I turn in.

On the 19th, we had a funeral party and took two chaps out to sea for burial. They were part of the crew of an M.T.B. which had set out for Messina the night before. Apparently they were led into an ambush. They entered the Straits of Messina quite easily but, no sooner had they reached the narrowest part of the Straits, when the searchlights were put right on to them and every shore battery opened up. Four boats left here but only two returned.

On the morning of the 20th, I saw a particularly violent explosion, made by an ammo ship exploding after being hit by a bomb. She also had a quantity of petrol on board. Smoke went up to about five hundred feet. On the night of the 20th, we had rather a heavy air attack and a couple of large British merchant ships were hit and set on fire. We happened to be passing one of them as the bombs came down so we were naturally on the spot to pick up casualties and swimmers. We managed to get a few chaps on board, although one of them died a little later in hospital on the cruiser Newfoundland. The whole harbour was a mass of fire. Apparently one of the merchant ships had petrol on board in tins and all the empty cans, etc., were floating around.

Every night without fail, we could see fires and gun duels in the front lines, a few miles away at Catania. It was pretty hot at times, believe me.

We stayed at Augusta for a few weeks and, on the night before we left, which incidentally was the last night of fighting in Catania, (it fell to our troops the next morning) there was a huge fire which absolutely lit us up like daylight. It was going all night and was supposed to be the jerries burning their equipment. That was round about the beginning of August. We then departed for good old Malta.

Joe Kelley, a Durham Light Infantryman was very much involved in the Invasion of Sicily. His memoir describes the fight to take the Primosole Bridge.

We sailed up the Suez Canal to Port Said to join the armada of ships already assembled there. We were on our way, the 5th July. What a sight, I had never seen so many ships in one place. Escorts consisted of Battleships, Aircraft Carriers, Destroyers and Gun Ships for anti-aircraft etc., and then the troop ships to convey our 50th Division and also the 5th Army Division. We were then told of our destination, Sicily, at the foot of Italy. During the voyage we had to attend lectures and look at pictures of the part we would be attacking. The day before the invasion, on the 9th of July a gale-force wind churned up the sea. Lots of men were sea sick. It seemed to calm down before the dawn of 10th July. We were told to get as much rest as possible and I must admit I dozed off. I had a rude awakening about 03.00am, we were about to embark and there was a great swell caused by the gales. We had the experience of having to jump into space when the L.C.I. craft came up to the side of the ships. 2 naval ratings caught us as we landed on the deck, they then guided us to the manhole that took us to our deck.

Joe Kelley

Joe Kelley

With 200 men in these boats it took a long time to fill them. The Navy wasted no time; when we were full we had 9 or 10 miles to cover before the beach landing. It was a relief when we finally landed. 7 ft of water, all our equipment wet through, but we had a Mae West to support us. There was a beach master shouting, “Come on the Durhams, get clear of the beach.” We were about 2000 yards from our landing stage. We cleared the beach and went into some orchards. The first thing that I and many others did was to empty the sea water from our packs. That made things a bit lighter, our clothes just dried in the sun, which was very warm even at 08.00am. Our Platoon Officer Lt Holloway got us organised and we set off following the remainder of the battalion. Our objective was the hills beyond “Avola”. We were given instruction to climb the hill, what a job we had.

We did not get much rest. Some Italian Commandos were on the move so we had to stand by. The 6th Battalion had laid an ambush for them, from where we were we could see what was happening, we were told to wait just in case they needed a hand. The ambush had been well prepared, anti tank guns were used against the transport vehicles. The fight lasted about 2 hours, eventually the Italians gave themselves up. The 6th Battalion captured an Italian General and all of his staff, including lots of papers that revealed valuable information. The next morning the 51st Highland Division took over our position.

The 151 Brigade, 6th, 8th and 9th Durhams were ordered to advance towards Primosole Bridge. The order was for the 9th Battalion to lead the way to the Simeto River on which the Primosole Bridge stood. The order came through in the afternoon (of the 12 July) the temperature in the shade was 35 degrees C, we had full kit on, along with ammunition and grenades.

The bridge was about 400 feet in length, it’s depth I would guess about 10 -12 ft and width of 3 – 4 yards, all made of steel girders. The Airborne troops were supposed to hold the bridge till we arrived. During our 25 mile forced march, with all equipment, we were strafed by 2 German fighter planes. We wondered where our transport was, it was said that the ship carrying all of the 50th Division transport had been sunk. That explained why we had so much marching to do. Then came the biggest surprise of them all. When we left Lentine we were bombed by American bombers, not a very pleasant experience – we suffered a few casualties. I won’t repeat what we said about them.

We advanced towards the bridge. I think the time was around 12.00 on the 15th July, we were grateful for the rest. We all stretched out exhausted and slept as best we could. We were told that the 9th Battalion would be attacking the bridge at around 07.30am and we were to advance and take over their position. From the high ground where we watched the 9th Battalion make their frontal assault, the sight was shocking. The River Simeto did, literally, run red with the blood of the 9th Battalion. It was all over by 09.30am, no bridgehead but they had succeeded in preventing the Germans from blowing up the bridge.

It was decided that our attack would go in at 02.00am on the 16 July. (We were shown) a shallow crossing about 300 yards from the bridge. This took the Germans by surprise and they retreated about 100 yards. The end of the bridge, which we had to approach from a frontal assault, had lots of bodies of Germans and British Paratroopers, mostly dead but some wounded who were being treated by the stretcher bearers.

Our Company advance was held up due to lack of communications. Just as first light appeared, up came Col. Lidwall and ordered us over the bridge to assist A Company. The bridge had been cleared of mines by the Royal Engineers (who had) piled them on the side of the bridge. One of our Bren gun carriers had been hit by a shell, it was not a pretty sight. We advanced onto the bridge and when we got to the far end it started. We suffered a few casualties because of the German Spandau machine guns which were firing on fixed lines 6 or 7 inches above ground. Capt. Lewis, our Company Commander, ordered us to lay low and went to find out the number of casualties, we never saw him again.

The Sgt told us to watch out for the German Paratroopers, they were well camouflaged and wore green netting over their faces, making it difficult to see them. Also, that snipers were in abundance. Then came the first counter attack. They were that well camouflaged that we could not see them crawling among the vines until they were 30 yards away. I cannot remember a lot of the action but being a Bren gunner I had used up 3 magazines before the cease fire order came. The moaning and screaming by the wounded was very unpleasant. We could not tend to the wounded because of the snipers. They had already shot some stretcher bearers even though they wore Red Cross armbands.

Ammunition was running low, so the Company runner was told to go back and tell the carriers that we needed some ammo. Before it arrived, the German Paratroopers attacked again. I knew that between us we only had 3 ½ magazines left. At one point the Major shouted “Every man for himself!” At this stage my mind went blank, I don’t remember much of the action but when it was all over, another pile of bodies were piled one on top of the other. The distance between us and the Germans was 25 to 30 yards. The bridgehead we made was reduced to 300 yards, so there we were, facing each other. We ran short of ammunition for the third time and the Bren gun carriers did a fine job keeping us well supplied and helped us repel counter attacks. Some carrier lads said they had named our area ‘stink alley’ because of the dead. We had forced the enemy back once again.

I now found myself with only 1 magazine left. The enemy did not retreat very far so we used hand grenades and 2 inch mortars, this held them back and they began to tire and retreat back to their own lines, leaving the wounded and the dead. With all the bodies the stench was terrible, Lewis and I found a small embankment and buried a German Officer, 2 German soldiers and 2 British Paratroopers. The mound gave us something to sit on, we didn’t bother about the smell.

We hoped the oncoming evening would bring some respite, but no such luck, they came again. I let loose with my last remaining magazine, then I got hold of a rifle and continued to fire. Finally the enemy gave up and we rested, able to eat some of our rations. An officer came round and said “Well Done” and that the 6th and 9th Battalions were coming through us to widen the bridgehead. The next morning was clear and sunny. Lewis and myself had a good breakfast, biscuits and ham washed down with warm but soothing water from our bottles.

Joe was injured later in the campaign and was taken to Syracuse and evacuated to Tripoli on a hospital ship.
Jim Williams was a physiotherapist and masseur with RAMC and arrived in Augusta for the planned invasion. His memoir and photographs give a fascinating insight into caring for the casualties of the campaign and life in Sicily directly after the invasion.

For a major D-Day landing casualties were light and the expected rush of patients didn’t materialise.

Within a few days we were called on parade and told that we were to join the invasion forces… As we were crossing to Sicily by LCT (Landing Craft tank) it was decided to split the hospital up into units of 100 beds. Each unit would be able to function independently as a 100 bedded hospital in case it was separated from the others. Before striking the tents each bed was made up with clean linen. Everything including the mattress was rolled up and stitched into sacking. Once we set up hospital again, the beds would be unfolded, a bundle placed on each, opened up, and within minutes a whole ward would be equipped with ready made up beds.

Our destination was an Italian psychiatric hospital, just outside Syracuse. All the Italian patients had been moved out and we were able to start putting our hospital together as soon as we arrived… Initially everybody took part in the hard, manual labour required to build and equip the hospital. Gradually as patients began to be admitted, men were withdrawn to work on the wards, the theatres and wherever they were required. As we were acting as a Casualty Clearing Station no physiotherapy was needed and I went to work in the reception tent, admitting patients as they arrived.

Our barrack room on the hospital site.

Our barrack room on the hospital site.

Me, Jimmy and Paddy outside the department in Syracuse.

Me, Jimmy and Paddy outside the department in Syracuse.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Surgical block staff with Italian POW in the foreground.

Surgical block staff with Italian POW in the foreground.

There were air-raids at night, fortunately not too intense, and we had casualties from these as well as from the front. Many (patients) were Italian POW’s who were housed in makeshift camps not far from the hospital, with no cover or protection at all. Most of them had been wounded by ack-ack shrapnel as it fell to earth. There was no question of our men being given priority over other nationalities be they German or Italian. The most urgent cases were treated first.

There were not many German prisoners but thousands of Italians. I was allocated two every day to act as stretcher bearers, carrying patients around the hospital compound. They were always quiet, well-behaved men who apparently had never been Fascists, never wanted to fight and just wanted to go home.

Patients continued to pour in. More tented wards had to be erected and in a very short time we had 3,000 beds, more than half of which were stretchers, permanently full. Not all the patients were wounded. We had the usual cases of dysentery but what surprised us most was the number of cases of malaria we had to cope with. Special units of the Royal Engineers were brought in to combat the mosquitoes. All areas of stagnant water were sprayed with oil. Within a few months the number of malaria cases fell rapidly and we were able to discard our nets.

All the time we had been abroad we had only seen an occasional case of venereal disease. Sicily was to open our eyes. We had so many patients admitted with VD that we had to send for a special unit to cope with them. One night I admitted 156 men with these conditions. They had been collected from all over Sicily – Canadians, Americans, British, Indians, almost every nationality and were sent to us for treatment. When a soldier from a locally based unit was admitted with VD we tried to find the source of his infection. If we were successful, a military policeman and a carabinere would visit the lady and bring her to the hospital (for treatment)

Glider Beach

Glider Beach

As hostilities ceased for a while the flow of patients slowed down and we were able to relax a little and have some time off. Trips by lorry were organised now and then for us to go bathing on the sandy beaches at Avola, south of Syracuse. This was the area where the first British landings had been made and the sea and shore were still littered with the remains of the unfortunate gliders that had fallen short of their target.

Walking down to Syracuse one day we found a small draper’s shop in a side street. Looking for presents or souvenirs to send home we went inside and found it staffed by three sisters and their mother. They had very little to sell, but offered to make us embroidered handkerchiefs. We accepted their offer and they made them with motifs of the 8th Army and Sicily in each corner. They were very friendly and we would always call in and see them as we passed that way, taking them items of food for it was still in short supply.

There was little to do but to see the sites. A few cafes and bars began to open but they had little to offer. The local people were very friendly and we would occasionally spend hours in these bars, fraternising with our ex-enemies and found the majority of them ordinary people like ourselves. I didn’t like the wines very much but I did like the people.’

Embroidered handkerchief

Embroidered handkerchief

Embroidered handkerchief

Embroidered handkerchief

Operation Ladbroke

Operation Ladbroke

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Operation Ladbroke was the first major glider operation of the Second World War, and the first ever glider attack by night. The operation took place on the 9th//10th July 1943 as the opening of Operation Husky. Operation Ladbroke’s objective was to land near Syracuse an invasion force of glider infantry of the British 1st Airborne Division to capture the Ponte Grande bridge and occupy the town of Syracuse. 144 gliders carrying 1,730 men took part, departing from airstrips in Tunisia. The gliders used were the American assault glider, the Waco CG-5 (named Hadrian by the RAF), with the addition of eight British Airspeed Horsa gliders. The Wacos were to be towed by 109 Douglas C-47 Skytrain aircraft (the Dakota) and twenty-seven RAF Armstrong Whitworth Albemarles. Seven Halifax bombers and one Albemarle were to tow the large Horsas. The operation, beset by difficulties from the start, resulted in the loss of 326 airborne troops who died when seventy-five gliders were forced to ditch in the sea. i

Arthur Royall, Platoon Commander

Lieutenant Arthur Royall took part in Operation Ladbroke, flying from Departure Airfield D (Goubrine Base) in Waco Glider 92 carrying B Company of the 1st Border Regiment, 1st Airborne Brigade. The following is his account, written in 1996, of the fate of Glider 92 which was released more than 3,000 yards from the coast of Sicily.

All military operations in wartime involve an element of gambling, larger in some operations than others. The choice of Ladbroke as the code name for the task allocated to the glider borne troops of the 1st Air Landing Brigade emphasised the element of the gamble.

The Sunday before the invasion, a large Brigade church parade was held and this was followed by a march past, the Brigadier taking the salute. I well remember singing the hymn ‘Eternal Father, Strong to Save’ with the prophetic line ‘For those in peril on the sea.’ I have never sung that hymn since without being reminded of the disastrous events of July 9th/10th 1943.

Objective

Halifax and Horsa after take-off

Halifax and Horsa after take-off (Fisher, J.)

Both the 1st Battalion, Border Regiment, in which I was serving as a young platoon commander, and the 2nd South Staffords [2nd South Staffordshire Regiment] were based in tented camps on the outskirts of the Tunisian port of Sousse. We were to fly from local airstrips and to avoid friendly fire from the Allied task-force, were to make a circuitous journey via Malta. This flight course was 450 miles, whereas the first route was 200 miles shorter. This was a night operation of which no glider units had any previous experience.
The plan was that the glider force, having landed on their LZs [landing zones] systematically in lanes (what optimism!), would capture and hold the vital Ponte Grande bridge for the advance of the Eighth Army. The Border Regiment were to pass through the South Staffords and secure the town of Syracuse. We were to occupy key locations and deny the approaches of the town to any enemy reinforcements. I seem to remember that the objective of 12 Platoon, which I commanded, was to secure and occupy the Post Office in the town’s main square.

The gliders

Horsa Glider

Horsa glider (Driver, R.)

All but a very few of us were to fly in Waco gliders of American construction. This glider, officially named the Hadrian by the British, had a wingspan of 83.6 feet and an overall length of 48 feet. The cockpit and fuselage consisted of a welded tubular metal framework which was fabric covered, and had a floor of plywood. The wings and tailplane were constructed of wood and covered in canvas. It is, I think, true to say that the Waco did not inspire the same confidence as the British constructed Horsa. The Waco was very noisy in flight as the canvas drummed against the steel frame.
The most serious drawback of this glider was that it could only take sixteen men or a few men and a jeep. The Horsa glider to which we were accustomed would take a complete infantry platoon of twenty-eight men and its handcart, or a jeep with a 6-pounder anti-tank gun with its crew. Two Wacos were needed to carry the same load and there could be no guarantee that they would land side by side; in fact, the odds against them doing so were fairly high.

Horsa glider interior

Horsa glider fuselage interior (Driver, R.)

I, like most platoon commanders, was unhappy that my men would be split in two. Whilst I was to fly in Glider 92 with fifteen men, my platoon sergeant, Victor de Muynck, flew in Glider 96 with eight of our men, two regimental policemen and our platoon handcart. In the event, both gliders carrying our platoon crashed in to the sea, six of our men drowned, and it was some weeks before we who survived met up again at our camp near Sousse.

The battalion flew from three airfields; these were, in fact, no more than rudimentary air strips in the desert. At about 1530 hours, we set off in the three-ton trucks which were to take us to the airfields where we arrived at about 1800 hours. Tea was handed out while we waited to emplane. Victor de Muynck is on record as saying that tea was a tinned herring sandwich. It was enough, he said, to make one sick before getting into a glider. I cannot remember the details of what was provided, but I must say that the whole operation had a distinctly fishy flavour.

 

 

Ditching

Loading a Jeep into a Waco glider (IWM CNA 1662, via Wikipedia)

The first of 1st Border’s gliders took off at 1905 hours and the last was airborne at 2012 hours. The gliders were towed by C-47 transport planes of the USAF which were unarmed, unarmoured and did not have self sealing petrol tanks. The tug [tow plane] pilots were inexperienced in military operations. The glider pilots were newly trained and had no experience of landing at night. There was a strong wind which had resulted, a few hours after take-off, in orders to increase the height for the release of the gliders. Our pilot was Sergeant Smith of the Glider Pilot Regiment, with Flight Officer Guy Hunter of the US Army flying as co-pilot.
Once we were airborne we had, barring accidents, a five-hour flight ahead of us. None of us, I think, were unduly worried, but we were all going to feel a great deal better when we had completed and hopefully made a safe journey. However, I must confess that I was not particularly happy about the type of landing zone on which we were to descend. As far as I could tell from the information given at our briefing, they were small, strewn with rocks, and bounded by stone walls. The journey was noisy and bumpy. We had, of course, an issue of brown paper bags into which we could be sick, and many of us were – we soon discovered that the bottom seam of the bag gave way after only the minimum of use! During the flight, the wind increased at times to 45mph.
As we approached Sicily, ack-ack fire was to be seen some distance ahead of us and the glider rocked badly. I felt the glider being released and, although I could not see clearly, we were over the sea and there was no sight of land. In what seemed a very short time the call came down from the pilot: ‘Equipment off, prepare for ditching.’ We hit the water with a tremendous thump.

Holding on

Because of their metal framework, Waco gliders sank to wing level very quickly. I must have been momentarily stunned. When I came to, the water was up to my shoulder. I was alone, it was dark, and I still had my equipment on. How to get out? I suddenly remembered that I had a Commando dagger on my belt. I took it out, pushed it through the canvas above my head, cut a large hole, and pushed my head through. My appearance was greeted with: ‘Here he is.’ I was hauled out through the hole, leaving my equipment behind. Later, when very cold, I remembered that my small pack, then well under water, contained a flask of whisky. I also reflected that it was very fortunate that no one was sitting on the canvas roof of the Waco when I stabbed my knife upwards. No sooner had I been extracted from the fuselage, which was completely full of water, Corporal Betts reported that he had lost his glasses; he couldn’t see, and his lifebelt wouldn’t blow up! He was still with us in the morning due to his mates holding on to him whenever he was in danger of being washed away.
The majority of our party remained with the wreckage during the night. The wings and tailpiece floated on or below the surface. We paddled from one portion to the other, changing position when the portion we were on, or holding on to, sank deeper in the water than what was comfortable. There was a heavy swell and it was much colder than I ever imagined the Mediterranean could be. I am sure that we believed that if we could hold on until daylight we would be rescued.
I gave permission for two men to swim for the shore which was clearly some distance away – at least five or six miles was my estimate. I was reluctant to give permission, but I felt that they should have the chance to swim for the shore if they felt they could make it. They did not make the shore, but soon after dawn were picked up by an assault landing craft and taken to its ‘mother ship’.

Rescue

When daylight came, those of us still with the wreckage, including our American glider pilot, could see ships and crafts of all sorts passing by, but they couldn’t or didn’t see us. As we were low in the water this was understandable, but it was frustrating and began to dent our morale. To have survived a night in the sea and then not be rescued was an awful thought. But then it happened: a Greek destroyer spotted us and came gently alongside. As it came close I realised that it was manned by obvious Mediterranean types. My heart sank momentarily – I thought we were about to be captured by the Italian Navy. Then a lone English voice was heard shouting, ‘It’s Ok, they are Greeks, not Ities [Italians]. I’m the only bloody Englishman aboard!’ He was a Royal Navy signaller.
Scrambling nets were lowered and we pulled ourselves aboard. Some of the chaps just couldn’t manage and the Greek sailors dived into the sea and helped them to and up the nets. We were a party of thirteen. Three members of the platoon (‘Dad’ Taylor, Hurley and Corporal Whitton) had been drowned, together with Sergeant Smith our British glider pilot.
The Greek Navy made us comfortable. I had a cut on my left eye which was stitched up by the ship’s MO; then, after a breakfast of bacon and eggs, I slept soundly until noon. I am told that during the morning the destroyer sailed close inshore and shot up some Italian shore batteries, but of this I was completely unaware.
Soon after noon our party was transferred to the empty troopship Reina del Pacifico from which Canadian troops had taken part in a sea-borne assault. I was wearing the clothes in which I had spent the night, now dry but somewhat shrivelled, but no footwear for I had dumped my boots in the sea, and I was unshaven. Lunch was being served and I was shown to the first-class dining room. Having spotted me, the waiter politely enquired, ‘Will you have the lobster, Sir?’ Well, you can imagine what I thought! But, when you come to think about it, what could be more suitable as a starter for lunch after a night in the sea! Other airborne officers and men were aboard and we were taken to Algiers. Another junior officer and myself were allocated a very comfortable cabin, and I acquired a suit of blue silk pyjamas and two silk khaki shirts left behind by a brigadier who was, by then, fighting in Sicily.
The airborne survivors from the ill-fated airborne assault on the island were the only passengers on this large liner. We had a blissful three days aboard. I dried out my sodden Allied Military Government invasion currency and discovered a liking for Horsenecks [an American cocktail] at a modest duty-free rate of less than a shilling apiece. By the time we were landed in Algiers, I had acquired some footwear: carpet slippers.

The fatalities

Of the seventy-two Waco gliders that carried men of the border Regiment on Operation Ladbroke, one landed in Malta, seven in Africa, forty-four in the sea, and only twenty-three in Sicily – and these were widely scattered. Only eleven officers and 191 ORs [other ranks] actually landed in Sicily [figures according to Arthur]. Casualties for the Air Landing Brigade and Glider Pilot Regiment were 605 officers and men, of whom some 300 were drowned without ever getting the opportunity to fight.
Five officers and 134 ORs of the Border Regiment, who had been landed at Algiers, arrived back in Sousse on the 21st July. On the morning of departure from our camp on the Algiers Race Course, I was admitted to the Military General Hospital. The wound over my eye had poisoned and I was diagnosed as having cellulitis. I finally re-joined the battalion and 12 Platoon at the beginning of August. The training of the re-organised battalion had begun as early as the 16th July, and the training instruction included the order: ‘All ranks will be taught to swim.’

Paul Gale, Navigator

Paul Gale was born in Brooklyn, New York, in 1921. He joined the US Air Corps as a navigator on ‘Dakota’ C-47s. Peter Liddle interviewed Paul in 2000. The following extract from his interview focuses on Paul’s first operation: the airborne invasion of Sicily, Operation Ladbroke.

US Army Waco CG-4A-WO

A US Army Air Force Waco CG-4A-WO Glider 1943 (National Museum of the US Air Force, photo
060505-F-1234P-004)

Sicily, July 9th, 1943 was my first combat mission. We were under the umbrella of the British. The Air Corps wasn’t that organized – it wasn’t that well formed when we got over there. We trained with the British Red Devils [1st Airborne Division]. Personally, I only had two training missions with the gliders and then went on the invasion of Sicily. That was the most grievous mission in military history. I had sixty-four combat missions before I finished the war, and that was the one that disturbed me the most.

Troubled

July 9th 1943 was a night mission for which we had not trained. The winds were gale force winds, up to forty-five knots. We had not been given any change of the release co-ordinates. When you went to the briefings they told you where you were going, what routes they expected you to fly and where they expected you to release these gliders: latitude, longitude and altitude. We received no information of a change of these co-ordinates which had to be changed because the co-ordinates that we had were all for five or ten knot winds or calm weather. The gliders were on a 350ft line towed behind us and they had a built-in gliding incidence of about 15 to 1. I am telling you this because I was aware of all of this at the time that we were taking off for the mission. If the winds changed then the co-ordinates had to change.
When we took off we were in a stream of planes. I had precious little navigation to do – just to get in there and follow them until we got to Malta where there was a turning point. Then we would break off in to groups, depending upon which landing zone we were going to. I was troubled by what was going on and I sat down and computed the new co-ordinates. We had no instrumentation other than a magnetic compass. I had a drift meter [an optical device used to improve dead reckoning for navigation] on which you read landmarks and you can tell how the plane is drifting and you can correct its altitude, but you need to be able to see something. When you are flying over the ocean, all you can see are waves and white caps. I could read the drift over the white caps and make it a little line so that you could parallel that like it was a rail road track or a highway; but you can’t do that at night, and we  had no training at night. Without being able to read the winds, I just had to go by feeling – but though they had told us what the winds were when we left, I didn’t know what the winds were along the course. I changed the co-ordinates: I brought them in a little closer and I made them a little higher. I gave that to the pilot and there was some discussion: ‘What do you want me to do?’ he asked. I said, ‘You have got to move up.’ ‘Well, I can’t move up,’ he replied. ‘There are planes over me, there are planes under me, there are planes alongside of me.’ I said, ‘If you move up, they will move up because everybody is flying on everybody else; otherwise, cut it loose here. We might as well drown here if we are going to drown. Do you want to go back and get a boat? Stuff it!’ So, we went up.

No Pathfinders

tragic landing

The Tragic consequences of glider landings in hostile terain ( Driver, R.)

The instructions were to release our glider at, I think, 3,000 yards from the shore. How the devil do you know when you are 3,000 yards from shore at night without any instrumentation? Without any Pathfinders [target marking squadrons] going through and lighting up the area where the gliders were supposed to be? There is no fixed point of reference. You can see the shoreline maybe, but we had never had any practice. I gave them the co-ordinates. I made them change. Then we released the gliders.
When we got back, the anecdotal information we got was that only twelve or thirteen gliders made it to the landing zones, and I kept telling myself for some fifty odd years that they had to be mine. At least one of those had to be mine.
From the perspective of the squad, nothing went wrong. We sent out twelve planes. In the debriefing notes, we got twelve planes back. We didn’t lose a plane; nobody was injured; nobody was killed. It was a completely successful mission and that is what the debriefing notes said. My knowledge was limited to that. It was the next day when we got the knowledge that only twelve gliders landed, and this was just anecdotal information that we heard. I didn’t do any enquiries at the time, I just was satisfied that there were twelve or thirteen gliders that made it in to the landing zone and I had convinced myself that one of those was mine – and maybe some others that were trailing us.

Mutiny

We knew it was a disaster because there was a mutiny of sorts. They wanted to do another mission and the American glider pilots – and there were only a few that were on that mission because there was a shortage of British glider pilots – refused to go. They were threatened with court martial, but the response was: ‘You only have to shoot one of us. They are not going to take down fifteen of us.’ The word was that it [Operation Ladbroke] was just a total disaster. We knew that. The glider pilot’s perspective was entirely different from mine. He was in a much more precarious position; he had very little control. The only control he had was after we released him and all he could do then was go down. He can’t take any evasive action, he can’t do anything to help himself. He is just going down really in a hopeless position and that of course, was what was troubling me all these years.
The mission that we were scheduled for on July 11th was aborted [Operation Glutton, to be undertaken by Brigadier E. E. Down’s 2nd Parachute Brigade].ii  That made quite an impression on me because the troops – these were all British boys now – were in the planes when the word came that we were not going to take off, and I remember these chaps breaking down. Some of them just broke down in tears, and that made a very lasting impression. I went back to my tent and it occurred to me that we were getting chocolate chip cookies from home, we would get lovely letters, and these guys were getting letters telling them that their brothers and sisters and families were injured or killed and their homes destroyed. It was a different war for them.

Royall, A. ref LEEW2001.1238; Gale, P. ref LEEW2001.882
i Number landing in the sea: www.operation-ladbroke.com ; number of casualties through drowning: www.pegasusarchive.org. Figures vary according to different sources.
ii The cancelling of Operation Glutton was fortuitous. The drop zone was later found to consist of rocks and gorges. Renamed Operation Fustian, the mission took place on the night of 12th /13th July 1943. 19 gliders took part to support paratroopers in the capture of Primosole Bridge. Of the 19, only 4 made land.

Journal 36  Everyone’s War – Explosives

Authors who have generously donated articles for this Explosives issue of the journal include Gillian Mawson, an author and historian. A Patriotic Evacuee tells the story of Guernsey evacuee Winifred West who was interviewed by the Centre in 2006.
Steve Hunnisett of London’s Blitzwalkers, WWII guided London walks, has provided a condensed version of his research on four men from Dulwich Hamlet Football Club. Real Heroes of Football tells of their service in the RAF and the sacrifice they made for their country.
One of our long-term volunteers, Martin Cocker, has spent years studying and giving talks on war hero and Victoria Cross recipient Arthur Aaron. Seldom Equalled: Arthur Aaron is an account of Arthur’s service in the RAFVR and his ultimate act of bravery which went beyond the bounds of duty.
The Centre’s Mossie researchers, Ian, Chris and Emma, have compiled a piece on No. 264 Squadron which includes a rare image of Dutch agent Hilda Bergsma.

Core topics

We begin with an article transcribed from the Centre’s interview of bomb disposal expert Colonel Bertram Archer, OBE, the Bravest of the Brave. We would like to give thanks to Melanie Archer, daughter of Colonel Archer, for the photographs which she kindly supplied for this article.
Immediate post-war bomb disposal work is highlighted in an article drawn from material donated by Jim Wood relating to his father’s work in No. 2 Bomb Disposal Company, London. This is illustrated with some fantastic photography depicting Corporal ‘Timber’ Woods and his team of sappers at work.
Colin Lyall’s service in the 51st Highland Infantry Division is the subject of Always a Sapper. From clearing minefields during the Allied invasion of Sicily to ‘all the dirty jobs’ in Le Havre. Colin’s highly dangerous work resulted in fatalities to his platoon and he was severely wounded while defusing a mine on a remote road in the Ardennes. He later suffered from combat stress as a result. An endnote by Colin’s wife gives credit to her husband’s devotion to duty: ‘…he was always a sapper at heart’.
Continuing the explosive theme, the tragedy of the Fauld Explosion in Staffordshire, one of the biggest non-nuclear explosions in history, is documented through the donations of Ken and Joyce McLeod. Both witnessed the destruction of RAF Fauld, Britain’s largest munitions dump. Ken, who worked at Fauld, survived the explosion, despite being underground. Joyce tragically lost her fifteen-year-old brotherin the disaster.
Women in munitions is the focus of an article by Dr A. Clifford, technician/engineer in a Royal Ordnance Factory near York. His article gives a rare insight into the work undertaken by women in what was a highly dangerous occupation. Dr Clifford’s donation to the Centre is a valuable contribution tothe history of women’s war effort.

Sicily

Sicily is very much a focus in this issue as 2018 is the 75th anniversary of Operation Husky, the invasion of the German held
island and staging point for the Italian Campaign. We experience the sea-borne landing assault through the detailed memoir of Colonel David Fenner, 6th Battalion Durham Light Infantry. From his ‘last supper’ to the destruction he witnessed around the bridgehead across the Simeto River.
Operation Ladbroke, the opening air-borne invasion of Sicily, is told through the memories of a glider navigator and an American tug pilot, both of which are emotive accounts of the tragedy that befell the operation. Seventy-five gliders ditched in the sea with great loss of life, the cause of which is still in dispute today.
Continuing with events in 1943 we take a voyage with Lieutenant Charles Coles who was laying mines off the coast of Galita, Algeria, in February of that year. The sinking of his motor torpedo boat led to the loss of some of his crew and, ultimately, his capture. Charles’ article includes his experience of Marlag O POW Camp, his recall of the famous escape ruse of Albert RN, and his liberation from Lübeck POW Camp.

The British Commandos

…were raised in 1940 as a highly mobile, elite fighting force able to undertake raids on occupied Europe and provide specialist support to the field Army campaigns and served in all theatres of the Second World War. The Centre has a fine collection of recorded interviews and memoirs of men who served as Commandos and the research papers of Commando veteran and historian Peter Young and extracts from some of these recollections are recounted in this overview ( the introduction to Issue 34 of the Journal of the Centre, by Cath Pugh, Editor   Spring 2017 Everyone’s War)

In 1940 an appeal for volunteers for dangerous duties resulted in the formation of ten Independent Companies, the fore-runners to the Commandos.

George Parsons

George Parsons 5 Independent Co.

With very little training or preparation they were raised to harass the enemy with surprise raids and acts of sabotage during the campaign to help defend Norway from German invasion. Only five of these companies saw action; experienced skier Hugh Hoppe joined 8 Independent Company and trained for arctic warfare with the Chausseurs Alpins at Chamonix but returned to Britain as soon as Norway fell, whereas ill-equipped non-skier George Parsons of 5 Commando, landed at Mojöen to defend the road to Narvik and made several patrols trying to make contact with Norwegian troops in the area. He remembers a “pretty sharp engagement” with some German machine-gunners before being evacuated from Bodø.

The ten Independent companies were disbanded on their return to Britain, many volunteers returned to their regiments but some joined a new company, 11 Independent Company, which took part in the first Commando raid on occupied France. Operation Collar

Disaster for Britain

Hitler’s swift advance through France and the Low Countries resulted, for the British Expeditionary Force, in Operation Dynamo; evacuation from the continent and a disaster for Britain. More than 66,000 servicemen were killed, missing or taken prisoner and tens of thousands of tons of weaponry, military vehicles and ammunition was left behind along with fuel, uniforms and other equipment.
The War Office managed to concentrate public opinion on the ‘miracle of Dunkirk’, the incredible seaborne rescue rather than the Army’s defeat and crippling losses, very aware of the importance of developing schemes to retain this ‘Dunkirk spirit’, while the home front suffered air raids, hardships and shortages as the country prepared to defend its shores against invasion.
The possibility of developing a raiding force was raised by Lieutenant-Colonel Dudley Clarke on 4th June 1940 and on 18th June, Churchill wrote to the Commander-in-Chief of the Home Forces suggesting the same, “What about storm troops?… specially trained troops of the hunter class who can develop a reign of terror down the enemy coast.

Very quickly the Commandos were formed with specific aims to unsettle German occupation forces, conduct acts of sabotage and provide valuable reconnaissance. Any successes would help retain public morale while the main forces prepared for large scale warfare.

The first Commando raid took place five days later.

Director of Military Operations, Major General R H Dewing was responsible for planning the methods of Commando recruitment, subsistence and accommodation and 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 (Guards), 9, 10 (Inter-Allied), 11 (Scottish), 12, 14 (Arctic) 30 and 62 units were launched. A further four Commandos were formed in the Middle East, 50, 51, 52 and the Middle East Commando. Some units were formed with specific roles from their inception; 2 Commando was always intended as a parachute regiment and before long was re-designated 11th Special Air Service (SAS).

14 (Arctic) Commando undertook intensive training in the Arctic and attacked enemy shipping in small boats. 30 Commando volunteers were trained in intelligence gathering, 62 Commando, the Small Scale Raiding Force was a smaller 55-man unit under the command of SOE (Special Operations Executive).
10 (Inter-Allied) Commando was founded for volunteers from occupied Europe. It became the largest Commando unit, with volunteers from France, Belgium, Norway, Poland, the Netherlands and 3 (X) Troop of German volunteers many of whom were political or religious refugees. Josef Folger, a young German brought to Britain with the Kindertransport in the summer of 1939, aged seventeen, spent the entire war attempting to join the Allied forces. At the end of 1944 he enlisted in the West Kents and volunteered for the Commandos soon after and was still training at Wrexham when the war ended. He spent the subsequent months gathering intelligence from German prisoners in British camps.
Early Commando units were divided into ten troops of three officers and 47 other ranks. After some reorganisation, the troops were expanded to six troops of Commando units; made up of a headquarters, six troops of three officers and 62 other ranks, so each troop could be transported by two Landing Craft Assault (LCA) and two complete units could be carried in the Commando ‘Glen’ landing ships.

Each Commando unit was allocated transport for training and administration rather than for use during raids.
The Royal Marine Commandos 40, 41, 42, 43, 44, 45, 46 and 47 were formed in February 1942. The RM Commandos were not volunteers like the Army Commandos, but allocated to these units after basic training. The Royal Naval Commandos (tasked with establishing, maintaining and controlling beachheads during combined operations) and the RAF Commandos (skilled ground crew trained to accompany an invasion force and build airstrips or make captured enemy airstrips serviceable) were founded in the same year. A further unit, 48 Royal Marine Commando, was formed in 1944.

Tactics of a cat burglar

The first Commando units were largely responsible for their own training. Sir Carol Mather who volunteered for 8 Commando in 1940 recalled, “We invented our own training. There were no training manuals as no one had worked out what the training was to be… but it was to be irregular warfare and so we learnt never to march in a formed body, never to march in step. We were to adopt the tactics of the cat burglar and so all this we invented ourselves and it was in our imagination.

Training was restricted by the lack of available arms and equipment so new recruits were subject to arduous physical exercise, unarmed combat (including a team version of boxing known as ‘milling’) and field craft.

Guardsman Tom Jones’ (of 8 Commando and later the SAS) recollections are typical,

We were told we were going to be trained as Commandos and we would kill people…. The next morning when we got up we were in working order, denims, and taken down to where we were going to be taught unarmed combat. We were introduced to two captains, one called Fairburn and the other one Sykes. They said they had been policemen in Shanghai and what they didn’t know about unarmed combat nobody had ever written!

Fairburn and Sykes taught us how to throw people over our shoulders and over brick walls, taught us the rabbit punch, the wrist crack, soft karate and how to use our fists in the soft part of the body to cripple. Then Sykes taught us a new stance for the revolver, to bow down and use two hands. We had to sign a notice saying we wouldn’t talk about what we were being taught. It was called the ‘D Notice’, and we all signed it with a sort of deep reverence and respect. We were also taught how to write secret messages with lemon juice, urine and things like that…

Dozens of Commando depots and training establishments were brought into being throughout Britain. Unlike regular soldiers, Commandos were usually accommodated in private billets or, in the case of officers, hotels. Brian Unwin, a child living in Southampton in 1944 wrote,

We had Commandos stopping with us. I remember they used to practice rifle shooting near the beach at Hamble and we used to go down there afterwards and find the shell cases, frequently live ones. We became quite expert in taking them to pieces and using them to make our own fireworks. When they suddenly disappeared we knew that something was on…

The first raids on Boulogne and the Channel Islands were not very effective but clarified a need for more organisation and planning, and to develop and refine the existing Commando training with an emphasis on operating in total darkness to create the element of surprise.
In February 1941, Lieutenant Colonel R E Laycock sailed for the Middle East with 7, 8 and 11 (Scottish) Commando and this amalgamation became known as Layforce. They made a disappointing raid on Bardia then in May, 7 and 8 Commando covered the withdrawal from Crete but suffered heavy losses from German airborne troops. 11 (Scottish) Commando had success capturing the position at the Litani River in Syria and 8 Commando went into action raiding Italian lines at the first Siege of Tobruk.
Lord Jellicoe, in 8 Commando told Peter Liddle,

Carol Mather and I had been rather aghast at one of the raids which we did carry out as a whole Commando from Tobruk. That was in a German airfield at Gazala to the west of Tobruk. The means of getting there was in an old Yangtze river sloop called the Amethyst. She only went about eight or nine knots I think, and the whole Commando was embarked on that for the raid on Tobruk but we never got there because we were spotted by both German and Italian aircraft and subjected to pretty heavy attack, we were really rather lucky not to be bombed in this.

Operation Flipper, the famous but unsuccessful attempt to raid Rommel’s headquarters at Beda Littoria was executed by a party from 11 (Scottish) Commando led by Lieutenant Colonel Geoffrey Keyes who was posthumously awarded the VC for his bravery during this action.

Officers of 3 Commando

Officers of 3 Commando ( J Smale)

Quite a shocker

William Dunbar of 11 (Scottish) Commando also served with Layforce,

We went over to the Lebanon and landed against the Vichy French, which was quite a shocker. I always remember three of us lying underneath this bush and we were being fired on and the whole bush was chopped down. I could not control my bowels. After that initial shock I was alright, but there were a couple of our bods on the shore, dead. We were Commandos, we didn’t stop to fetch people up; it was all forward movement. We initiated a movement and that was it, we didn’t deviate at all. Didn’t matter how many we had knocked out”.

Eight months later, in March 1941, men from 3 and 4 Commandos accomplished a largely unopposed raid on the Norwegian island of Lofoten. They destroyed fish oil and glycerine factories as planned and during the operation the Navy captured code books and a rotor wheel for an Enigma cypher machine from an armed German trawler. The lack of German forces and the ease in which their objectives were achieved buoyed up the Commandos; Major John Smale relayed that during the raid one of his men sent a telegram to ‘A Hitler, Berlin’ saying, “In your last speech you said German troops would meet the British wherever they landed. Well we are here, where are you?”.

On 27th December 1941 3 Commando supported by detachments from 2, 4 and 6 Commando, made an attack on Vaagso to destroy oil factories and sink enemy shipping. The raid was deemed another success with objectives achieved for few losses. It resulted in Hitler diverting thousands of troops and weaponry to defend the Norwegian coast and away from other fronts to the great benefit of the Allied forces later in the war.

Corporal F Why of 1 Commando wrote an account of his ‘highlights’ of the Vaagso operation,

We were in our LCAs (Landing Craft Assault) going in to the assault when HMS Kenya opened up. Amid the roaring thunder of guns and shells came the strains of Mad Jack Churchill playing some jig on his bagpipes. What a feeling those pipes gave me! Shivers ran down my spine, I was proud to be British – we couldn’t lose.”
Tracer was going up at the Hampdens which we hoped would lay a smoke screen at the correct moment. I saw one swoop down in flames, poor blighter. Down came those planes in an orgy of hell let loose, everywhere was smoke and noise. I started retching and I couldn’t see a thing. My neck, hands and legs were burning as one of the bombs splashed me. 4 Troop had stopped one right in their boat, poor show! As we got ashore I rubbed snow onto my burns and that helped. I realised we had had a wet landing and felt cold and we were deficient of a Bren gunner (the falling canister had hit his head).
“Our task was to climb up the cliff and when we reached the top we had a short breather among some Christmas trees and had a smoke but with everything I had inhaled I felt like I was choking.

Out of the blue, three German planes came over; it was useless taking cover – then they were gone. We started back. Our anti-tank gunner was doing well against the snipers and we returned to find Vaagso ablaze with destroyers letting all hell into the northern portion of the town and it was snowing sardine labels due to a well-placed demolition charge. On the way back, after undressing in a bath of water, I was on anti-aircraft duty. That night we buried our dead at sea.”

Audacious operation

Doctor John Roderick MC

Doctor John Roderick MC Chevalier de Legion dhonneur

Operation Chariot, often referred to as ‘the greatest raid of all’, was the audacious operation undertaken by 2 Commando and demolition parties from 1, 3, 4, 5, 9 and 12 Commando to destroy the huge Forme Ecluse at St Nazaire.
John Roderick, in command of 3 Troop of 2 Commando sailed there on board the Campbeltown, the explosive-laden warship that rammed the dock gates.

“The task of my assault party was to engage and destroy the guns and crews on the south area of the Normandie Dock, to form a defensive perimeter to prevent infiltration of enemy forces towards the direction of the Campbeltown and pumping stations etc, and to do damage (if possible) to old storage units.

Following the crash of the bows over the caisson which came with surprisingly little jolting, I quickly went forward to reconnoitre the way off. It was a bit of a shambles with many wounded chaps lying about the dock and I met with flames as I opened the forward companion door. Bill Copeland gave us his usual morale boosting order as we quickly made our way off Campbeltown. Our bamboo ladders had been damaged by gunshot, however I managed to find a length of cable down which we clambered onto the dock gate covering our actions as best we could… there had been a hell of a lot of firing and it was difficult to pinpoint where it was coming from. I cannot remember seeing gunfire coming from the first gun emplacement. I went forward with Cpl Howarth and an explosive of some sort passed over my head and wounded him in the leg. We finished off the crew there then moved on with John Stutchbury and his section, firing in turn.”

Surprise

“We next had to clear the ground leading to, and over, the oil storage tanks. There were a number of Nissen huts into which we threw grenades with the most terrific bangs and it was on another concrete building that we killed a further batch of the enemy. There is no doubt we killed two more… we advanced round the seaward side of the oil tanks giving John Stutchbury cover as he went forward to engage a third group of the enemy.
“We had quite a large area to cover and with our reduced numbers it was a full-time job keeping our eyes all around. The withdrawal involved us retracing our steps back across the bows of Campbeltown which was uncannily silent in contrast to the bangs going on around and while running for cover I was shot through my left thigh. It came as a complete surprise, I was only aware of being knocked head over heels and my Bren gun leaving my hands. I moved quickly behind a stanchion and eventually made my way towards Colonel Newman’s assembly point.”

John was wounded again before he was captured and put on a small river vessel with several other prisoners from where he saw the Campbeltown explode, “With an almighty bang!

The success of the raid left the dock inoperative for the rest of the war and the German warship Tirpitz was forced to remain in Norwegian waters until it was sunk in an RAF attack in 1944.
In May 1942, 5 Commando took part in Operation Ironclad, the campaign to capture Madagascar from Vichy French control.

Rear Admiral E F Geuritz, DSC and Bar was Beachmaster during the landings, “It was a complete success from a point of view of surprise. The Commando was able to take over the battery which commanded Courier Bay with the garrison asleep, because the orders of the French for the defence had said attack at night is impossible”.

Two Army Commandos took part in the ill-fated Operation Jubilee, the raid on Dieppe on 19th August 1942. The intention was for the Commandos to take the coastal batteries when 3 Commando ran into a German convoy and only two parties landed but managed to engage the Berneval Battery for some hours.
Vincent Osborne was in the second wave of the attack,

We had just come up from below deck to get in to the position to take off. 7 Section, that is half of the troop, was forward and 8 section was to the rear of the twin four-inch guns. A man came and told us there were loose mortar bombs rolling about at the far end so my Number One went out to sort it out. Star shells lit up and a hell of a lot of firing took place and the same man came back and said, ‘Your mate has been killed.’ That was it! …We didn’t get ashore because the opposition was so strong, we would only be reinforcing disaster.”

4 Commando, under Lord Lovat MC were more successful and overwhelmed the Varengeville Battery and its garrison in a controlled and daring assault. Professor M R D Foot, later a Commando Intelligence Officer in the Adriatic, was posted to GSO3 intelligence at Command Operations headquarters and arrived the day after the raid on Dieppe. He recalled,

The place was like an over turned beehive. Corridors full of staff officers crying out the first names of friends who had gone to Dieppe and not come back and saying we have made a colossal balls of it.”

Vincent Osborne of 3 Commando made the wry observation, “We had a hell of a lot of coppers as replacements after Dieppe and these taller ones helped the short arses” in later raids.

On the night of 3-4th October 1942, a party from the Small Scale Raiding Force and 12 Commando carried out a reconnoitre operation on the occupied island of Sark.

Five German prisoners were taken and with a shortage of men to guard them their hands were secured behind their backs. It is not clear what happened but after the raid the bodies of three of these prisoners were found on the beach by the occupying forces. Berlin alleged bodies of German soldiers tied up in the same way (the rope knotted round the thumbs, the method thought to be favoured by the Commandos) had been recovered after the Dieppe raid. Later that month a succession of Kommandobefehl (Commando Orders) were made directing the killing of all men found operating against German troops in so-called Commando raids in Europe and Africa.

John Randall (of the SAS) recalled,

This was not something that we, ourselves, were notified about. Perhaps that was just as well but I don’t think it would have made a great deal of difference. But we did lose some very fine people who had the misfortune to be captured and tortured and murdered, and it has made a big scar on my life and gave me a particular attitude towards post-war Germany and the Germans in general”.

After taking part in the Torch Landings, 1 and 6 Commandos served with the Field Army throughout the campaign in Tunisia, mainly in an infantry role.
3 Commando was the first British Unit to get a foothold in occupied Europe when it landed at Sicily in Operation Husky ahead of the field Army and destroyed the coastal battery that had covered the beach at Cassibile on the night of 10th July 1943. Vincent Osborne, of 4 Troop, remembered the landing very clearly,

“We landed in Sicily quite close to Cassibile and the job was lightly opposed. We got in and were on the march when a single shot rang out. I understand it was a farmer who was a bit upset. Anyway, we formed up and did the assault on the guns.”

Three days later they captured the vital Ponte de Malati, the Primosole Bridge, enabling the 50th Division to make their advance.
On 3rd September 1943, 2 Commando landed at Vietri sul Mer on the Salerno Plain, scaled the cliffs and easily took their objective, an undefended gun battery.

With 41 (RM) Commando they captured a German observation post at La Molina which controlled a pass leading to the Salerno beachhead. On 13th September they defended the village of Dragone against stiff opposition then moved to Mercatello and cleared the area from German forces. Both Commandos then occupied the area known as the ‘pimple’ before they were withdrawn to Sicily. This campaign had heavy costs for the two commandos; almost half that made the Salerno landing were killed, wounded or missing.

Forced to withdraw

Operation Devon was the amphibious landing at Termoli by 3 Commando, 40 (RM) Commando and elements of the SRS ( Special Repair Service).

J E Leech MM of 3 Commando recounts this exceptional accomplishment in his memoir,

“We were to land at Termoli and block the roads and lines of communication of the retreating Germans. We secured the beachhead without a single shot being fired and followed the railway lines towards the town. Very soon we heard firing from the outskirts where 40 (RM) Commando were held up. We soon reached the scene where the only opposition came from three houses covering a forked road. We put our two-inch mortars and grenade discharger to very good purpose with one bomb setting fire to an ammunition dump. This put us in great spirits and we advanced to the station and on to a block of flats where we took up positions and covered a detachment of 2 Troop who knocked out an 80mm gun.

From there we proceeded to a building that turned out to be the local HQ of the German commander. We surprised him and ourselves when we entered the yard and found him still shaving, we put him under escort and rounded up a few parachutists to keep him company. I was still covering a section of the railway line and on occasion put several bursts of fire over the heads of Italian civilians trying to rob from the bodies of German casualties.

We settled down for the night to rest and wait for the Eighth Army to come up and the next morning the Germans broke through to the south, almost cutting our lines of communication and we had to turn out to reinforce the troops on the high ground. We were very surprised to see our forward troops withdrawing followed closely by the enemy. Through my glasses I saw a Tiger tank covering the advance of approximately 70 men and estimated the range to be 1400 yards so I fired a couple of rounds from my Bren gun and dispersed them and they made no more attempts to advance until several hours later. Instead they began a barrage that lasted several hours and caused us some casualties; at one time the shells were landing at two minute intervals.

By 1500 our position was beginning to look serious, we saw several enemy troop-carriers advancing and, as we had no supporting weapons, we just lay and watched them moving towards our right flank, clearly threatening our flank. We prepared a line of small arms and waited for them. Unfortunately for the Germans, they thought we had evacuated and advanced in their greatcoats with their weapons over their shoulders. We waited until the leading man was 50 yards from us then we let go, forcing many casualties on them and forcing them to withdraw.”

Special Services

In 1943 the Commando units were reorganised into five fighting troops (divided into two sections of 30 other ranks further sub-divided into three 10-man platoons), a heavy weapons troop with a three-inch mortar and a Vickers machine-gun team, a signals platoon and headquarters. They were also allocated sufficient armoured transport to accommodate the entire unit during operations.

The role of the Commando changed as the Allies planned and executed large scale amphibious landings of invasion forces on occupied Europe and as a result, they were formed into four Special Service brigades to land at the forefront of these operations.
1 and 4 Brigades operated in North West Europe, 2 Brigade operated in Italy and Yugoslavia and 3 Brigade operated in Burma

First Commando Brigade (3, 4, 6 and 45 RM Commando with French troops of 10 Commando) was under the command of Lord Lovat.

On 6th June 1944, 4 Commando captured Ouistreham while the rest of the brigade relieved airborne troops that had captured the ‘Pegasus’ Bridge at Benouville the
night before. Lovat was gravely wounded during the Battle of Normandy the following week but the Brigade continued to support the Field Army until it returned to Britain in September to be brought back to full strength. Despite plans for service in the Far East, it was posted back to Europe for service in the Ardennes Offensive, the Crossing of the Rhine and the Weser.
4 Commando were selected for Operation Infatuate, an assault landing to open the port of Antwerp. Professor John Forfar recalls,

“At one point I was behind the leading troop. While they were waiting the Germans, at the top of a dune that we ultimately could see, mortared them. They killed eleven right off the reel and another twenty were seriously wounded. This was the kind of disastrous thing that happened in Walcheren.”

Heavy losses

The Second Commando Brigade, under the command of Brigadier RJF Tod, served in Italy, Yugoslavia and Greece.
After a raid on the lower reaches of the Garigliano in December 1943, 9 Commando landed at Anzio with little opposition but the Brigade suffered heavy losses in their attempts to take Monte Ornito. The following spring they landed at Anzio again, this time in an infantry role.

Sleeping Commando

Sleeping Commando

From December 1943 to October 1944, Lieutenant Colonel Jack Churchill commanded a force operating on the Dalmatian coast from the Island of Vis, its most celebrated raid was in March 1944 when it destroyed the German garrison on the Island of Solta. After capturing Corfu, the brigade returned to Italy early in 1945. On the 1st April, a difficult crossing of the Comacchio lagoon, (after weeks of dry weather the lake had become a muddy mire and the Commandos had to wade through dragging their landing craft), it took and cleared a narrow strip of land known as ‘the Spit’ to secure the eastern flank of the Eighth Army. It then took the bridge at Menate in the Battle of the Argenta Gap.
3 Brigade, under the command of Brigadier C R Hardy DSO, saw little action until the last Arakan campaign. The brigade occupied Akyab then fought for three days to take Myebon and destroyed a Japanese cavalry regiment. After crossing the Daingbong Chaung to Kangaw, there was a bitter fight to retain Hill 170, considered to be the decisive battle of the entire campaign.

‘What’s in a Hat?’

Dr John Paterson was a junior officer in 1 Commando engaged in combined operations in the Arakan, and in his account ‘What’s in a Hat?’ describes the nature of the danger as well as the regimental pride enduringly associated with the Commandos,

I well remember one patrol I went on when we were led into a carefully prepared ambush which entailed our party withdrawing pretty smartly, and with some loss of dignity, in order to regroup. It was just outside a village, and there was an unusual feature in a sort of straggly hedge running down a band between two dried-out paddy fields; there was no question about it, we had to run for it.
All my chaps got over this obstacle in safety, gaining cover 50 yards further on, and then never much of a sprinter it was my turn to do my fastest ever hundred yards. Dashing at the beastly thing, I got stuck halfway over, kicking and swearing in mid- air like mad. After what seemed an age I fell down – happily on the ‘home’ side – picked myself up and  started on my second lap. Halfway across the second paddy field I realised my precious green beret was not on my head. Stopping in mid-flight to look back, there it was, hanging in the hedge and ready for the Japanese to pick up as treasure trove. This just would not do! I ran back to retrieve my precious beret, putting it on carefully before running for cover once more. Happily the Japanese were notoriously bad rifle shots and of course my chaps were laughing their heads off with a ringside view of this ridiculous caper. What idiot would go back under fire for a bloody hat? I would. It meant a great deal to me.

3 Brigade was then withdrawn to India to prepare for Operation Zipper the invasion of Malaya. Fenton Rutter, in command of a flotilla of landing craft, recalled,“We loaded up with the units of the 3rd Commando Brigade and we had our pontoons but fortunately the Japanese bomb dropped and so that was that”.

Commitment

At the end of the war most Commando units were disbanded, only three Royal Marine Commandos and one brigade remained. The legacy of this remarkable force is the Special Forces that were formed from the Commandos and have since proved vital in recent warfare, the Parachute Regiment, the SAS and the SBS.

 

 

The Centre holds a magnificent collection of interviews and memoirs from men who served as and with Commandos and it is fitting to end this introduction with an extract from St Nazaire veteran Arthur ‘Buster’ Woodiwiss’ memoir;

“What made a Commando? Commitment! We were not elite, not chosen but out of our own free will were ready to fight for freedom. We came from all walks of life, all trades and professions, rich and poor. The overwhelming majority of volunteers were not regular soldiers, they were civilians in uniform for the duration of the war. Men who decided the Army needed men of intelligence eager to attack the enemy as specially trained, highly mobile, independent individuals, ready to fight in small groups or alone. The Commando was not a superman, but with stealth and endurance he was trained to be one.”

The Normandy landings of 6 June 1944 overshadowed all other campaigns in the media for the remainder of the war. It is largely unrecognised that D-Day is the term applied to the first day of any operation and in fact there were other ‘D-Days’ before that in Normandy. The importance of the landings in N.W. Europe cannot be overstressed, but other D-Days should also be remembered, including the landings which initiated the Italian Campaign, which stemmed from Churchill’s belief in attacking the ‘soft underbelly of Europe’.

 

Invasion of Pantelleria on board an LCI, 10.6.43 from the papers of G. Wooler

Invasion of Pantelleria on board an LCI, 10.6.43 from the papers of G. Wooler

These pages set out to demonstrate the rich holdings of the archive in respect of the Italian campaign, by quoting just some of the many memoirs, diaries and tape-recorded interviews in the care of the Centre.

The decision to invade Sicily was agreed by the Western Allies at the Casablanca Conference in January 1943. The campaign began with air attacks on Italy and Sicily and on 11 June, D-Day on the tiny Italian island of Pantelleria with the intention of capturing the airfield there, to be used by Allied aircraft for the invasion of Sicily just 65 miles away. Corporal John Best, a Royal Marine, had some personal reservations about the chosen date:

Finally, came our first invasion. It was to be Pantelleria, off Sicily, on 11 June 1943, which was also my 19th birthday. It was the custom on our mess that on your birthday the lucky man got ‘sippers’ (rum) all round which of course meant that I would be ‘three sheets to the wind’ . . I explained to the Captain of the ship the situation and asked if the invasion could be postponed for a day, he said quite definitely it could not.

 

Invasion of Pantelleria on board an LCI, 10.6.43 from the papers of G. Wooler

Invasion of Pantelleria on board an LCI, 10.6.43 from the papers of G. Wooler

Midshipman Bayley, aboard HMS Egglesford witnessed the invasion and wrote in his journal on 11 June, 1943:

Yesterday more bombs were dropped on Pantelleria than in the whole of April on all Mediterranean targets… Until 1515, when we left, wave after wave of bombers were still going in, causing huge explosions and one great mushroom of dust rose right above the island. Naval bombardment ceased however at 1515. . . We left when resistance had ceased and white flags could be seen flying.

The anticipated resistance never materialised as Captain Peter J de A Moore describes in his memoir, ‘No Need to Worry’:

Then we noticed the white flags. First it was one or two and then they appeared all over the island flying from every house. When the great dust cloud finally thinned and dispersed our objective was once more fully exposed to us but this time it had surrendered. The land battle was over before it had begun. In spite of the easy victory we carried out the pre-arranged plan of attack and occupation. I had had to memorise a path from the harbour to the airfield, from the relief map. The LCIs unloaded us in the harbour and my platoon made straight for the airfield. When we arrived, without opposition, we found Italian soldiers and airforce men standing about ready to surrender.

LCI on trial for Normandy landing, Pantelleria. G Wooler

LCI on trial for Normandy landing, Pantelleria. G Wooler

Girl with GI kit bag as a skirt, Pantelleria. G Wooler

Girl with GI kit bag as a skirt, Pantelleria. G Wooler

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A month later Operation Husky, the invasion of Sicily, began with an ill-fated airborne assault designed to seize the Ponte Grande Bridge south of Syracuse. Paul Gale, a Navigator in the US Army Air Corps, had completed just two training missions with gliders before the invasion of Sicily and discussed his difficulties and subsequent sadness in a recorded interview for the Centre:

The instructions were to release our glider, I think, at 3,000 yards from the shore. How the devil do you know when you are 3,000 yards from shore at night without any instrumentation?

(I later heard that) there were 12 or 13 gliders that made it in to the landing zone and I had convinced myself that one of those was mine, the word was that it was just a total disaster. We knew that.

Bert Holt DFC served with the Glider Pilot Regiment. His log book is entrusted to the Centre and he recalled during interview:

We landed exactly where we were supposed to. On approaching the island we were met by fire from what appeared to be bofors guns. They were the same type of shell, explosion etc that our bofors made. We got a few holes in the wings, but nothing else.

The H-Hour for the seaborne attack on Sicily was 0245 on 10 July. Three British Divisions were to attack the beaches in the east and two US divisions headed for western beaches, all supported by heavy fire from offshore warships. Green Howard Jim Brown landed on the beach at Avola and remembers seeing ferocious air attacks launched against the invaders:

I was there on D-Day at Sicily. We saw three ships sunk. One of them had still got a lot of troops on it and they all jumped over the side. Well, the ones that weren’t injured. There was a hospital ship as well, but they came in so low that they couldn’t fire at them properly because they were firing onto the shore where our people were anyway. It was nasty, very nasty that.

Walter Bowring‘s memoir illustrates the weak coastal defences which greeted the invasion forces in some areas:

In front of us, already illuminated by searchlights and tracer bullets was EUROPE! It was an exciting moment and it seemed to take an age to cover the few miles to the shore. A heavy machine-gun opened up, raking the beach; although there was no other opposition we felt horribly exposed and it was a great relief to drop into four feet of water and wade ashore.

Corporal Ron Rhodes, RASC, describes landing south of Syracuse, where the defence was better prepared:

There was a Landing Craft next to us which had just grounded but as the first lorry ran off the ramp it dropped straight into about fifteen feet of water. There were 30 men on board and they all drowned. . . I told the CO to open the door slightly and turn down the windows for a quick getaway. We ran off the edge of the ramp, I took a deep breath then splash!, but we were only in three feet of sea, we were lucky. We ran up the beach, lorries in front of us, burning, shellfire, men dying like flies, saw a Yank burning to death in his lorry, saw men blown to pieces. It was a nightmare, we were lucky to survive.

As the campaign progressed, Alastair Warren, a Subaltern commanding 10 Platoon, B Coy 1st Black Watch 51st Highland Division recalls:

After about three weeks of continual machine gun and shell fire during which our CO had a leg shot away by an anti-tank gun while standing in the open surveying the scene, 10 Platoon was ordered to spearhead a night attack on a rocky hillock about 1,000 feet high called Sferro Ridge.

The Centre holds the typescript recollections of Gerald M Anderson of the US 1st Infantry Division. As they headed for Tronia, his battalion experienced the devastating effects of ‘bouncing betty‘ mines:

My squad was selected to secure the area and remove the dead and wounded – a sight I will never forget. Some of the bodies were lying over unexploded mines and others so badly wounded they couldn’t move.

Arthur Barraclough, an Observer with the YLR experienced tough German resistance and was taken prisoner during the battle for Catania airport:

We walked into this hail of machine-gun fire. We all dropped flat onto the ground. I remember the Adjutant firing with his revolver which immediately brought a death-dealing volley from the machine gun, and that is where he finished. . . The Regimental Sergeant-Major and myself, we were shoulder to shoulder. They got him too and I was laid there, and I thought, “this is where the end is going to be for me”, when this German soldier came forward with his sub machine-gun and he looked at me. I really thought he was going to shoot me in the head. . . he looked at me and to my intense relief he said, “Raus hier” and I was taken back to their line which was down a banking where one could see they were quite safe.

Bailey Bridge, Catania. G Wooler

Bailey Bridge, Catania. G Wooler

Drawings on the walls of the Luftwaffe. G Wooler

Drawings on the walls of the Luftwaffe. G Wooler

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Despite determined resistance, for example at Primosole Bridge, the Allied invasion overall ran smoothly, culminating in a race for Messina. On 17 August, Patton’s US 3rd Division entered the city just 50 minutes before the British Army. The Germans had been evacuated leaving huge amounts of weapons, ammunition and fuel. The Mediterranean could now be used fully as a sea route.

The natural progression to the Italian mainland started with Operation Baytown, amphibious landings on the beaches between Reggio and Catona, intended to draw German defences away from Salerno, where a larger scale attack was planned.

JG French a Staff Sergeant in the RAMC recalls, in his memoir, the treacherous conditions on landing:

(On 2 September) we moved north into the Messina area and the next morning boarded the invasion barges, crossed the narrow strip of sea and put our feet down in Europe just north of Reggio meeting no resistance, in fact the Italian soldiers who were around were guiding us along the paths to miss the minefields.

E W Shaw, a 5th Sherwood Forester landed ‘on the corn of the big toe of Italy’ on 3 September 1943:

‘From Reggio we slogged against a frustrating enemy who adopted similar tactics they’d used in Sicily, – retreating to prepared positions during the night and attempting to frustrate us through the daylight hours. Yet when the Salerno landings took place on 9 September, German resistance strengthened against us in an attempt to slow our progress towards the bridgehead, but they weren’t well organised, our slog becoming a forced march, a mad hustle, bustle to help those on the bridgehead. At times we perched precariously on speeding tanks.

D-Day for Salerno was 9 September. Operation Avalanche was a large-scale amphibious landing to take Naples a major port, scheduled by US General Mark Clark to last three days. There was no quick victory, but gruelling fighting for three weeks. Captain Peter J de A Moore recalls the strong German resistance:

That night, in the Tyrrenhian Sea, the news came over the ship’s radio that Italy had capitulated. This was not regarded as good news. In the past, whenever we had had to face the enemy, there was the chance that our opponents were Italians. Now we knew that our opponents were always going to be Germans, for whose fighting prowess we had a healthy respect. It was apparent that the landings were not going well. There was a tremendous din with battleships and cruisers shelling targets inland with their heavy guns, destroyers engaging enemy coastal guns from close inshore, the rush and explosions of incoming shells from German 88s, and the roar of low flying Messerschmitts and Focke-Wolfes. The attack had been expected and the Germans were putting up fierce resistance. Many of the landing craft had been hit and one LCT was burning where it had been grounded to discharge its cargo. Other LCTs had great holes in their sides from shelling. Our ships were laying down smokescreens to hide the targets of the German gunners.

T Jackson, a RDF Operator on HMS Dido kept a diary throughout the campaign:

18 September

Salerno Bay – shelled by shore batteries as we bombard hills. Air raids during daylight hours. Spotters report targets on shore destroyed.

19 September

Continue with bombardment – replies becoming less. Troops ashore making progress north. More targets destroyed by our gunfire. Spotters reports relayed by loud speakers – thrilling!

20 September

Tanks landed from invasion craft am.

22 September

Move position 0615 back to where the action is. More air raids by 109s. We bombard again – prepare for big offensive. During lull Capt. Allows bathing over ship’s side. OK until shore batteries open up towards us – some very fast swimmers make their way back to the rope ladders.

Lieutenant Michael Irwin RN experienced difficulties landing some soldiers of the 36th Texas Division on the beach:

I pleaded with the Americans to go in but they refused until it was daylight. They lost the advantage of darkness and they went in. We were the third wave, and we found off our beach, Yellow Beach, a lot of craft on fire and people swimming and we went in to rescue. I remember one craft, there were ten Americans, a lot of them dead, and we picked up survivors . . there was one man who had his face almost blown up and he was sitting on the ramp and we were about to pick him up when we were machine gunned and given no mercy at all.

Dennis Tindall, an Officer in the RAOC remembered his abortive attempt to secure safer and more peaceful surroundings:

Naturally I and my party tried to put ourselves in the most sheltered spots as far away as possible from the most constantly shelled areas. On the first night shortly after we had settled down behind a hedge, a battery of 25 pounders arrived and started firing immediately over our heads.

KL Philips arrived off Salerno on the morning of 22 September, by which time the bridgehead was secure and there was only one gun firing random shells into the bay. The next stage of the campaign was very much in his mind:

(To pass the time we would) dig in and camouflage our guns, then get the tank crews to try and spot them, so that they could get some idea of what it was like in Europe instead of Africa. One bunch were more than horrified when I stepped out from behind my gun and said “Boo” when they were only about ten yards away. It made them think a bit.

We finally moved off at first light on 28 September, and promptly slid into the ditch and got stuck in the mud, and it was evening before we could catch up our own place in the column.

Clearly, as reflected in the recollections of Julian Wathen, 1 KRRC, many of the troops destined for Italy, had already seen action in North Africa and the news of their next posting was not warmly welcomed:

In due course news came through that we were to move to Italy and rejoin the 8th Army there. Our riflemen, many of whom had been abroad since the war began, thought that their war was over, so there was consternation at the thought of going back into action. Sailed on my 21st birthday to Naples, marched up through the town to make camp in vineyards. Paraded by Brigadier Dawnay, who tactlessly said that we were now to get a chance of getting at the Hun, groans from the riflemen who had been up and down the desert doing plenty of hitting for several years.

This feeling was not shared by G R Tribe of the Hampshire Regiment who had considered his ‘service in a tropical climate‘ would entail a posting to Burma:

No-one knew what was happening until the mist suddenly lifted and we found that we were anchored with half the original convoy in the Bay of Naples. The whole scene was perfectly beautiful. It was obviously not to be Burma after all. We felt, perhaps illogically, that we would rather be killed by Germans in this delightful part of Europe than by brutal Japanese in the swamps and jungles of the East.

The amphibious landings at Anzio, in January 1944, were planned in response to the difficulties over the winter of 1943/44 in attempting to force the Gustav Line. It soon became clear that the Allied intention of reaching Rome in 1943 had been overly optimistic. The new landings would take place behind German lines in an attempt to cut communications between Rome and Cassino. Unfortunately Field Marshal Kesselring had anticipated the Allied plan and retained reserves near Rome. Despite an initial, unopposed landing, stiff resistance soon appeared after the Allies failed to capitalize on this success. Almost a month later the situation was at stalemate and it would take another three months before a significant breakthrough would occur. Again, the memoir of Cpl Ron Rhodes, attached to 158 Welsh Field Ambulance provides a graphic reminder of the shelling during the Anzio invasion:

… it was hell on earth, we were under constant attack. We started digging slit trenches right away with our bayonets and any other tools we could scrounge. Harry and I managed to get to some sand dunes near the sea. By then the Germans were being pushed back inland. We dug out the sand with our bayonets and an old piece of angle-iron, we dug down about four feet, the shells were bursting round us everywhere. We were digging like hell, we were soaking wet through, up to our knees in wet sand and mud. Roy Harris caught a packet in his left side, a piece of shrapnel sticking through his guts, we carried him to the Medics then we literally fell in the slit trench, soaked to the skin. We tried to put a ground sheet over us but it was useless, we couldn’t sleep. The Artillery behind us were firing with their guns called Long Toms nearly all night.

The bombardment of the Anzio beachhead was continual, resulting in extra strain on those deprived of sleep. ‘Anzio Annie‘ was the name given to the railway gun operated by the Germans from a tunnel in the Alban Hills. This shellfire is remembered particularly by Ron Rhodes:

I had just started to write to Joyce when we heard the usual thud, subconsciously I started to count but I got to about twelve seconds when there was a hell of a bang and a big bright flash, the next thing I remember was our dug-out fell in on us.

Ron was fortunately dug out of the trench safely, but his friend had been fatally wounded by shrapnel.

During the landings at Anzio, J S Herbert, on board HMS Icarus, witnessed the use of German radio-controlled bombs or ‘Chase-me-Charlies’:

The evenings were very lively then, for the anchorage was full of craft of all kinds – cruisers, destroyers, landing ships and hospital ships. Suddenly the alarm would be given and each one would open fire, and start to manoeuvre at high speed against the Chase-me-Charlies which were armed with a light in their tail.

Tanks arrive off the LCTs. G Wooler

Tanks arrive off the LCTs. G Wooler

The determined resistance at Salerno and Anzio had come as no surprise to J W Kingstone, whose diary entry for 20 March 1944 reads:

Everybody knows that the African campaign will seem like a glorified Boy Scouts outing compared to the battles that we shall fight in this country.

The landings, although important as stepping-stones in maintaining pressure on German forces and supplies, proved the beginning of a protracted campaign which finally finished in May 1945. In a country of rivers and mountains ideal for holding up the Allied forces, the skilled German defence led to high casualties. Allied servicemen caught up in this theatre fought in frequently horrendous conditions over a long period, and in no way merited the nick-name ‘D-Day Dodgers’.

The first major factor in the Italian Campaign is the topography of the country, which is ideally suited to the defender. The central ‘spine’ of mountains, rising to over 6,000 feet, proved an insurmountable barrier, forcing the attacking forces to remain either side of the feature and requiring the Allies to cross well-fortified rivers in frequently difficult weather conditions. The strong opposition was ordered to deny Allied forces access to the Balkans, the oilfields of Rumania and the south of France. The defence of each river and mountain produced conditions reminiscent of the Western Front in 1915-17. For the troops, morale was affected by the realisation that each mountain and river crossing was seemingly followed by yet another on the horizon.

2nd Indian CCS south of Cassino, G Wooler

2nd Indian CCS south of Cassino, G Wooler

The second major factor is that of strong Allied differences of opinion in both deciding whether the Campaign should be waged at all and how it should be conducted. The American view was that all resources should be directed towards a landing in France. The British regarded a campaign in N.W. Europe as not something for consideration in 1943, since manpower and resources would not be available in sufficient quantities. The landings in Sicily, Salerno and Anzio proved no walk-over; instead they marked the start of a long and arduous fight for the Italian Peninsula.

After finally breaking out of the Salerno bridgehead the Allies faced a lengthy slog up the west coast of Italy against stiff German resistance. The first important feature was the Gustav Line at the point of the rivers Garigliano and Rapido and river Sangro in the north. At the river Rapido the Benedictine monastery dominated the town of Cassino. Major J M Gibson-Horrocks of the Royal Regiment of Fusiliers, spoke of the monastery’s strategic importance during his tape-recorded interview:

This was one of the great advantages for the Germans against our morale, because every single soldier who served in Cassino was conscious of being overlooked from this monastery at all times.

 

A Cassino propaganda leaflet

A Cassino propaganda leaflet

Any movement during the day would bring down an immediate ‘stonking of mortars from the opposition‘ so that all essential operations including food and ammunition replenishment and repairing of the signal lines would have to be carried out at night. Major Gibson-Horrocks entrusted a copy of his hand-over document, dated 21 April 1944, which he received from the OC 3rd Battalion Welsh Guards, to the Centre, giving guidance as to the conditions in Cassino and the German troops they would be facing:

He seems to be good troops, rarely shows himself and is good with the mortar. He had the incredible cheek yesterday, on Hitler’s birthday, to hang Nazi flags in the windows of some houses. His Rifle Grenade is extremely accurate, the b. . .

Nicholas Mosley MC of the London Irish Rifles, reiterated the difficulty troops faced in the Cassino area:

We took over from some French troops and that was hair raising because we were right at the top of this ridge and one couldn’t dig a trench because it was rock, and you couldn’t move in the daytime because you were under observation, so one made little stone shelters where one literally crouched and lay for hours and that was very nasty.

On Mosley’s arrival, in the winter of 1943/44, his platoon had not yet received any winter clothing and were still in tropical kit, despite ‘snow literally up to one’s waist. Mosley narrowly escaped capture after ‘an attack on our position in the mountain by German Alpine troops, all dressed in white and they wore snow shoes or skis, and they came roaring down through the trees‘.

S Macza‘s interview on behalf of the Centre makes the valid point that Polish forces played a very important role:

At Monte Cassino we had to prove that we were fighting for a free Poland and we really attacked ferociously and in spite of the great losses we took it.

His sister too, served in Italy in a transport company, delivering supplies by lorry from Taranto to just behind the lines. Capt Donald Kerr MC conducted an interview with Richard Campbell Begg in 1998, in which he recalled witnessing the American bomber raids on the monastery while serving in an Armoured Division of the New Zealand Army.

The diary of Jack Cassidy, a driver with the RASC, graphically illustrates the shelling, incidences of booby traps and casualties caused by mines. His diary entry for 1 June 1944 records his impressions after the Cassino battles:

Passed through Cassino. Nothing left of it. It’s gutted with shellholes. Not a wall standing and dead Germans under rubble but too risky to move them for mines and Booby traps. They’ll be finding them next year at this time.

FSU examining German dugouts, Gustav Line. G Wooler

FSU examining German dugouts, Gustav Line. G Wooler

German Blockhouses. G Wooler

German Blockhouses. G Wooler

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The casualty rates for those fighting to push through the defensive lines and cross the rivers were very high. As G R Tribe recalled:

At the Infantry Reinforcements Training Depot there were six of us Hampshires sharing a tent, and we all went up at the same time for the battle of the Gothic Line. Of the six, only one walked out on his own feet.

Capt Peter J de A Moore MC of the 2/5th Leicestershire Regiment also fought at the Gothic Line, in a sector where ‘we were soon to become depressingly accustomed to battling for one hill only to find that there was another one beyond that, and beyond that, almost, it seemed, ad infinitum.‘ Peter’s vivid description of the assault on the small hill town of Mondaino, a strong defensive position, exemplifies the battles fought throughout the campaign:

As we were groping our way forward up the hill, we heard the rattle of Tommy guns, Brens and rifle fire just ahead and the shouts of our troops. Trotty and I came across Company Sergeant Major Unwin, of A company. He was in a state of fury. “They’ve shot Major Capron and Captain Rawson” he told us “We are going to sort those buggers out”. . .The Germans had Panther tanks and self propelled guns in support of their defending troops and there was a deafening din of shellfire, mortars, hand grenades and small arms fire as the furious troops of A and C companies fought their way into Mondaino and engaged the Germans in savage hand to hand fighting. The deaths of the two company commanders had inspired their companies to an heroic performance and by dawn most of the town was in our hands.

News of Allied progress in N. W. Europe provided a boost to morale. L H Collier, a Doctor in the RAMC, wrote home in September 1944:

I had the great pleasure of being able to tell our latest prisoners that the Americans were in Germany, which, as you may imagine, shook them considerably. One young officer said “Well, I suppose it’s nearly over now. After this war, Britain, America and Germany must ally themselves and fight against World Bolshevism”. Planning the next war already! You’d have thought that they’d have had enough, by now.

In the course of Professor Collier’s tape-recorded interview he gave an insight into the medical assistance required:

In the Battle of the Gothic Line we had quite large numbers of casualties coming in and the main job there was to triage them, that it to say, to split them into walking wounded, people who needed immediate resuscitation and people who needed immediate surgery. We had no facilities of course, for transfusions or anything like that, we just got them back as quickly as we possibly could. Some of the injuries were pretty horrendous and the ones that I really hated were those caused by land mines. . . Everybody got sorted out in order of their medical priority and that was the only fact that ever counted, and if a German needed treatment before a British person, he got it.

In September 1944, H Bretherick, a Grenadier Guardsman, was involved in the crossing of the River Setta:

The water would be almost up to our armpits, one held on for dear life to the man in front and behind. We were nearly across when we heard one of our company lads shout, he had lost his footing and was swept away downstream.

Lt General Sir David House, then a captain in the 1st Battalion King’s Royal Rifle Corps, witnessed the first attempted crossing of the River Ronco in late October 1944. He recalled the hazardous nature of the crossing, which proved disastrous for the infantry. The lack of armoured support was due to the river being in spate:

Inevitably almost they were counter-attacked by enemy infantry and armour and most of them were taken prisoner.

The continual rain during the crossing took its toll:

We were there for two or three nights and that slit trench contained water over one’s boots and it was very cold, very nasty, a very unpleasant experience.

Major N J Warry, of the same Regiment was seriously injured during the crossing and was one of those taken prisoner:

I luckily had some grenades and I crawled up and managed to lob two grenades into the German ditch. It was when I was crawling back that I got shot in the back.

 

CSM 661 REME in mud. G Wooler

CSM 661 REME in mud. G Wooler

The effects of the bombardments on towns and villages throughout Italy and the attendant civilian casualties must also be remembered. Professor Michele Bassi wrote of the suffering of the population of Cotignola and a translated version of the book was entrusted to the Centre by Mr A E Gladstone. Having lived under a virtual state of siege for more than four months, Bassi wrote:

The front line was static along the Senio River and not one ray of hope brightened the horizon, to give the imminent notice of a return to a life of peace and civilian rebirth . . .Every day that passed saw new houses destroyed, new families forced to become refugees. . . Water was running short and what was available was of dubious quality; clothes and linen could no longer be washed and dried outside; food was scarce and inadequate to nourish emaciated bodies and provide indispensable vitamins.

The plight of the civilian population did not go unnoticed among the Allied troops. In a tape-recorded interview, Lt Barclay Hankin, of 11 L of C Signals, recalled:

Always, if we stopped for a sandwich or a brew-up, little children would appear, rather sweet little children in rags, in the south of Italy, they would stand twenty feet away and very politely they used to say “Chocolate piece for me?” The villages were very poor.

Later, having travelled through Rome in convoy, Hankin took twenty servicemen to view the main attractions of the City; visits to the cultural sites of Italy being a common theme of memoirs and recollections.

By Spring 1945, the end of the campaign was in sight, as reflected in the diary entry for 14th April of Tom Roe, a Gunner and Signaller in the Royal Artillery:

Supported 10th Mountain Div in artillery barrage for the break-out. Things moved fast and we were the first troops across the River Po. Once across, the chase began and we liberated towns and villages too numerous to list. Flowers and vino in abundance from happy Italians.

John Waterfield, too, of 1st Battalion KRRC, recalled the difference in attitude towards the end of the war:

At this stage was our first encounter with jubilant Italian villagers and peasants who, I distinctly recollect, surrounded us as we drove, cheering and waving flags but not kissing us, or at least not me. On our long flog up the spine of Italy and the Ravenna plains, I do not remember seeing civilians except in our very occasional billets in farmhouses, and those we saw were cowed and unenthusiastic. After the Po I remember sunshine, flowers and especially the young girls! A great contrast to earlier winter frosts, mud, rains, snow and grey skies.

In the immediate post-war period, a number of servicemen were involved in reburial of Allied casualties, including Honorary Alderman Joe Kitchen who was attached to Number 5 Graves Registration Unit:

I was transferred to this unit where there was a Major, a Captain and a Corporal and myself, who was a Lance Sergeant, and approximately another eight soldiers. We were involved in going out, locating, removing and bringing back the bodies of troops who had lost their lives, to the cemetery for burial. . . Our job also was to clear the area for the people who had lived at Cassino to enable them to return home and at that time some houses were being erected to accommodate them. It was around this time that I met my wife who was Italian and a partisan.

Whilst the principal focus of the Centre is the collection of personal testimony of life and times in the period of the Second World War – these lives cannot be separated from events and the Key Aspects of living through those times.

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Examples of some of the Centre’s collections are featured in these pages, illustrating the wide scope of our holdings, including a slightly more detailed look at the role of the WRNS during wartime, love letters, personal experiences on the Home Front, and a focus on our wartime artwork.

Many of the Lives on our website will have been involved with or around the events mentioned in this section, as you explore here or via the Collections or Timelines you will have the opportunity to find and explore these connections.

This section will be extended and updated often so please come back again soon.

“For you Tommy, the war is over”. Not necessarily so. Escape and Evasion in Europe

As part of the Eighth Annual Lecture Series, Dr Peter Liddle, Life President of the Second World War Experience Centre, explored the rich testimony of those who escaped and evaded capture during the Second World War for his lecture at Harewood House. We are delighted to include an illustrated transcript of this fascinating talk.

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Dunkirk

We commemorate the successful evacuation of 340,000 British and French troops from the beaches of Dunkirk May/June 1940.

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Norway 1940

In April 1940, the ‘phony war’ ended when Britain and France fought Nazi Germany for control of Norway. This campaign was abandoned with the fall of France and ultimately led to the resignation of Chamberlain.

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Operation Chariot – The Raid on St Nazaire, 28 March 1942

On the night of 28 March, 1942 Royal Navy and Army Commando units launched a raid on the heavily defended docks at St Nazaire.

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Events in North Africa – June 1942

In June 2002 we look back at the events sixty years ago in the western desert of North Africa.

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The Russian Convoys – July 1942

In July 2002 the hazardous operations of the Russian Convoys are remembered.

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Operation Pedestal – August 1942

An urgent but dangerous convoy to deliver much-needed supplies, especially oil, to the beleaguered island of Malta. An Hour of Glory: The Strike at the Luxembourg Post Office, 1 September 1942. Article by George C. Kieffer The article was first published in Issue 3 of Everyone’s War.

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El Alamein and Torch 1942

The second Battle of El Alamein in October 1942 and the Torch landings of the following month heralded the beginning of the end of the campaign in North Africa

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The Strike at the Luxembourg Post Office – 1 Sept 1942

In this small country, with its close-knit community, where everybody knew everyone else, resistance to the Nazi invader was always fraught with danger from the quislings in its midst, which it is difficult to imagine in England or indeed anywhere which has not suffered the iniquity of enemy occupation. Resistance meant certain death, if caught. Talk was certainly safer than action…..

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Godfrey Talbot – The Voice of the Desert and the Eighth Army

Godfrey Talbot relayed the action, as it happened, to the families at home.

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The Warsaw Ghetto and the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising

In commemoration of the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising of April 1943, we feature the story of Janina Bauman who, as a Jewish girl, was forced to live in the Ghetto before escaping to hide in the ‘Aryan’ side of the city.

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Operation Chastise –  The Dams Raid May 1943

The Dams Raid of May 1943 was an important morale-raising attack undertaken by members of the 617 Squadron.

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Operation Husky –  the Invasion of Sicily

July 1943 saw the large scale attack on what Churchill called “the soft underbelly of Europe”.

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The Italian Campaign

Recollections of the Italian D-Days, Monte Cassino and the River and Mountain Crossings from the Centre’s archives. Victory! VE Day Celebrations on the British Home Front. Dr Ian Whitehead’s look at celebrations across Britain. The article was first published in Issue 11 of Everyone’s War.

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The Thai-Burma Railroad

Personal experiences of prisoners of the Imperial Japanese Army, who laboured on the construction of the infamous Thai-Burma railway. This material illustrates the horrendous living and working conditions suffered by the prisoners. We also include recollections of Far Eastern Prisoners of War held in other camps who suffered similarly. It does not make for easy reading but we should remember the men who survived and the thousands of prisoners who didn’t make it home.

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Aspects of Life on the British Home Front

An abridged version of Dr Ian Whitehead’s detailed look at life on the Home Front in Britain during the Second World War. The full article is available in Issue 6 of Everyone’s War.

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Fulfilling a need – the role of the Women’s Royal Naval Service

An introduction to the wide-ranging roles undertaken by Wrens, who won over those sceptical about their abilities and paved the way for a permanent service.

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The North East of England project has been generously funded by The Sir James Knott Trust, The Barbour Trust and The Eventhall Family Charitable Trust.

Love Letters

Here we display a selection of the Centre’s extensive collection of Love Letters, written by husbands and wives, parents and children.

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The North East of England during Wartime

Here we consider experiences of life on the Home Front and for those in the Armed Forces in the North East.

The North East of England project has been generously funded by The Sir James Knott Trust, The Barbour Trust and The Eventhall Family Charitable Trust.

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Voices from the Battle of the Atlantic

By Kate Tildesley, Curator at the Naval Historical Branch. An examination of the “Battle”, or series of campaigns, which lasted throughout the War, against, and in defence of, Allied merchant shipping.

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Not the Image but Reality: British POW Experience in Italian and German Camps

Dr Peter Liddle and Dr Ian Whitehead examine the ‘barbed-wire enclosed existence’ from the Centre’s archives.

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Kindertransport

Between December 1938 and August 1939, the Kindertransport programme evacuated almost 10,000 Jewish children from Germany and Austria to Great Britain. The Second World War Experience Centre holds recorded interviews and documents from several of these children including Clive ‘Teddy’ Teddern and Ken Ward who went on to serve with the British Army in Normandy, Holland and Germany.

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RAF Special Operations

by James Holland

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The Work of Women in the Women’s Auxiliary Air Force

Experiences in the Women’s Auxiliary Air Force from the Centre’s holdings.

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Victory! VE Day Celebrations on the British Home Front

The unconditional surrender of Germany was public knowledge on 7 May 1945. Sir Montague Burton, writing to his son, perceived a collective sigh of relief at delivery from danger, combined with a strong sense that this had been a victory worth fighting for…

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The Battle of Britain: an Anthem for Youth

Article by Stephen Bungay, Director of the Ashridge Strategic Management Centre

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1943 Timeline

February
1st Chindit operation in Burma behind Japanese lines.

Richard ‘Bud’ Heyne starts Flying training in Texas

April
The Warsaw Ghetto uprising in occupied Poland. Resistance is finally crushed a month later after fierce fighting.

May
The Dambusters Raid undertaken by 617 Squadron against dams on the rivers Mohne and Eder. Led by Wing Commander Guy Gibson, the 19 Lancasters carried revolving bombs designed by Barnes Wallis. Gibson was awarded the VC.

July
July 1943 saw the large scale attack on what Churchill called ‘the soft underbelly of Europe’. Allied attack through the losses of Operation Ladbroke and  landings in Sicily in Operation Husky – occupation is completed a month later.

September
The Allies land in Salerno while German forces occupy Rome. A month later Allied troops enter Naples but the Italian campaign proves to be both lengthy and costly.

October
The Thai-Burma Railway is completed. Constructed by Asian labourers and Allied POWs, conditions were harsh and thousands died.

November

November 19th:  Denis Forman leads an attack on a German-held gully near the Sangro river.

December

December 25th:  Eric Such enjoys Christmas festivities at a restaurant at Cape Cod with his American hosts; an emotional occasion.

December 26th: Battle of the North Cape – sinking of the German battleship  Scharnhorst

 

1942

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1944

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