Percy Smith's War Diary - part 2

War declared

Just as we had begun to think that we had had the first few weeks of our six months, things started to get serious again in Europe. Hitler had made an agreement with Russia, his forces were massed on the Polish frontier and then invaded Poland in early September. The British Government insisted that he should withdraw, but this was ignored. On the first Sunday in September, we had been on morning church parade and on returning to camp, the news went round that there was going to be an announcement by the Prime Minister on the radio, at midday. The only place this could be heard was on the small set in the Naafi so the place was packed. For the first time, we listened to the now famous announcement “This country is at WAR with Germany”. I think we felt as though we had already been stabbed, without a shot being fired. It was like a bad dream that you were going to wake up from at any minute. Youngsters of our age had been brought up to believe, and told at school and at home, that the Great War had been the ‘War to end all wars”. At the time we were not quite sure if we would all be blown to bits in the next five minutes or if it was one big bluff.
After we had had our meal we were marched up to the woods nearby, issued with picks and shovels and set to work digging trenches, which at least kept our minds occupied. We worked at this until dusk. To add drama to the occasion, it came over very dark and there was a terrific thunderstorm that night. It was all very unreal.

Leaving Blandford

Next day, the routine was very much interrupted and no-one knew what was going to happen next. I think it was the day after that, that a party of us, with a Sgt. in charge, were put on a coach for Portsmouth. We were to guard an ammunition magazine at a place called Tipnor, part of Portsmouth dockyard. This was our first taste of many of being on guard. We may have looked the part, but we certainly did not feel it. I think we were scared of everything, including the Orderly Officer. However, 2 hours on and 4 off went without any danger, if only without a full night’s sleep. Returning to the guardroom in the morning, there was a very welcome sight — the Sgt. and the largest frying pan I had ever seen, full of sausages cooking for breakfast.
After a day at this, we returned to Blandford. I hardly settled down before I was part of another party of chaps, all of whom were able to drive, or at least make a motor move. The Sgt. Major paraded us outside Battery Office and told us we were very lucky chaps, as we were going to Aldershot for the duration and as far as we were concerned the war was over!! We really believed it.
As it turned out, it proved to be the worst day so far of my army life. I seem to remember that first we went to London by train. At Waterloo station we were organized into groups. My particular group was marched out of the station and put on a motor coach for Aldershot. The coach made its way out of London onto the Great West Road, at which point I had a horrible thought of what route it would take. It did, of course, go right through Staines High Street! I really felt like a ghost must feel, going through a place I knew so well, no-one knew I was there, I knew so many of the people, but no way was I able to stop and get out. This was really rubbing it in. However, over Staines Bridge and away to Aldershot.

Bulford and R.A.S.C.

Far from the marvellous job at Aldershot that we had been promised, the place seemed to be in absolute chaos. There were thousands of soldiers in groups everywhere, waiting for further instructions and being shouted and cursed at by hard-pressed NCO’s. We seemed to get shifted around from time to time. Fortunately, on leaving Blandford, we had been issued with what was to become known as the ‘Unexpired portion of the day’s rations’,( Bully beef and biscuits), otherwise I doubt if we would have had anything to eat. There was, however, tea now and again. The last I can remember of the place was that a very disagreeable NCO shouted at us to ‘Fall in’, and I suppose being rather fed up we did not move fast enough, so he shouted “Come on, jump to it, you lazy bastards. We’ve got a glass house (military prison) for blokes like you”. In the early part of the war, it was quite in order for lower ranks to be cursed and sworn at, but it was forbidden towards the end. At this point we were marched off and eventually arrived at what was known as the Rushmore Arena. Just over a year before, my Dad and I had seen the Aldershot Military Tattoo here. Now, with all the others I was to ‘kip down’ for the night in almost the same place. It was quite an open stand but fortunately the weather was fine. We managed to complete some sort of toilet and after food, my group were marched off to military transport, which took us to Bulford. Bulford was in the wilds of Salisbury Plain where, at that time, there was no town to speak of. There was just Army and everything depended on Army. There was nothing but bell tents, not even a parade ground. Early on our arrival, we again changed our status and I became T/104194 Driver P.H. Smith. R.A.S.C. (Royal Army Service Corps).
I was glad to find myself in transport and away from the Guns but not quite so happy with the fact that we were joining companies which were being formed to go to France. This was only about 10 days after war was declared. This was to be a very large company, to be known as No. 2 G.H.Q. company R.A.S.C. It consisted mainly of four wings. The two largest were the ‘Petrol and Ammunition Wing’ and the ‘Supply Wing’. Then there was the ‘Workshop Wing’ and a ‘Headquarters Wing’, in all perhaps accounting for 800 — 900 men. There were about 30 Officers, coming under a Lt. Colonel.

Apart from we ‘Militia’ men, there were quite a lot of Supplementary Reservists. To us, these were old men in their thirties and even up to nearly forty, who, because they had some sort of ‘trade’ which was useful to the army, such as carpenter, mechanic, driver, electrician and so on, had been able to put their names down on the Army list and get a payment for doing nothing. The only snag was that the moment a war was declared, they were called up instantly. One effect of this was that there were so many being called up that there were not enough uniforms and some were coming on parade in their own suits. In fact one rather large chap went to France with three stripes on the sleeve of his own suit.

A good many of the Supplementary Reservists did not take too kindly to Army life, they took the view that they had signed on to do a trade and not drill, guards, saluting, rifle training and the rest. This was rather entertaining to us Militiamen who had already had about eight weeks of strict discipline. Some were sure they could demand leave before going overseas and they intended to insist, but they soon found out that while they had every right to demand, they didn’t always get! Most of the NCO’s were Regulars who had been newly made up, some of whom were not particularly bright. Our Sgt. would give orders and if you asked him to explain them, he would tell you the same thing again a bit louder.

For two or three weeks life was very busy. Soon after our arrival we were marched up to a field, where there were perhaps 100 — 200 three ton Bedford lorries, mostly used, in varied condition. There were also mountains of drums of camouflage paint as the lorries had been commandeered from civilian sources, such as coal merchants, contractors, builders etc., and they had to be painted in army colours. I think these vehicles had been subsidized to the owners on much the same basis as the Supplementary Reservists had received their peacetime pay. We were soon organized into ‘Platoons’ of 5 lorries each, usually one really good lorry and 4 not so good. Each lorry had a driver and a loader and each Platoon had a junior NCO. I think there were about 5 platoons in a section with a Sgt. in charge. The lorry I was given was a well worn vehicle with two of its four rear wheels punctured, no window in the driving side and, being an old vehicle, the windscreen was in sections and one of these was broken. There had been brackets fitted between the seats of each lorry in which to put two rifles. In the back of the lorry was a collection of tools of doubtful use: a machete, pickaxe, skid chains ( which murdered the tyres, as we were later to find out), a camouflage net and a tarpaulin. However, at least the engine seemed to be lively. ‘Canadian Pacific Railways’ was painted on each side, and the first job was to repaint the whole thing with camouflage paint. We were supposed to do all sorts of jobs on these lorries to make them as good as possible, but as we had very few materials, tools or know- how, I don’t remember very much progress in that direction.
Another happy experience at this time was that everyone had to have a series of inoculations in rather quick succession, some of which had very painful after-effects, but no excused duty was allowed.
In our Army Paybooks, Pt. 2, there were tear-out pages for the purpose of making a Will, which we were asked to do as an order, and hand them in to the office. So that, all in all, after being pushed around, 3 inoculations, posted to a ‘Petrol and Ammunition Wing’ and given a worn-out lorry, stuck in a bell tent, no leave and being asked to make a will before going to France — my war hadn’t started too well! I think perhaps, looking back, it may have helped that we were all in the same boat.
It was not a happy time at Bulford. There was nowhere to go in off duty time, we had to make a different lot of friends, we did not know what it was going to be like, going to France. The only thing we had to go on were the stories we had been told about the First World War, which were hardly a cause for joy. I did manage to get to a phone box one Sunday afternoon and tell Mum and Dad we were soon going to France. I think that was the only time in the whole of my army life that I was not sorry that we were not getting leave.

Off to France

It was now about the end of September and everything was being made ready to move. So, out onto the open road went dozens of lorries, staff cars, dispatch riders on motor bikes — the lot. I don’t remember ever being told exactly where we were going — we were just told to keep about three lorries distance from the one in front. With our standard of drivers there were one or two casualties by the time we arrived at Newport in South Wales, where the people came out to give us cigarettes, cakes, tea and sweets as we slowed up. We really thought we had already won the war, it was marvellous.
We drove straight to the docks, where eventually our vehicles were hoisted by crane onto a boat. Then we were marched to a makeshift camp, more or less on the edge of town. I don’t think we were there much more than about two days before we were called on parade to get ready for the boat.

Going out to the pub for a drink in off-duty time was allowed, but you weren’t supposed to say to any of the locals where you were going (as though they did not already know). One poster which came out during the war about secrecy said “To win the war — keep your bowels open and your mouth shut”.

Eventually we were called on parade with full kit and marched off to the docks. For some reason we were told to take our kit off at he docks, leave it on the ground and report to an office, but when I came out someone had pinched my overcoat. This was a bad start and I did not get it replaced until sometime after our arrival at our location in France. Marching onto the boat we young ones were curious to see if the Supplementary Reservists would refuse to go on the boat without leave as they had said they would, but everyone went on in perfect order. The boat was named “The Cuba”. I don’t know if it was a proper trooper, it certainly wasn’t luxurious. In our quarters below deck, there was quite a long cabin with tables stretching out from each side to a gangway in the middle. We were given hammocks to sleep in (that was fun), some fell out during the night onto the hard floor. There is a bit of an art to it and its not too bad when you get used to it. We had found out that the Army cannot bear to see soldiers doing nothing and we were kept on the go all the daylight hours: lifeboat drill, P.T., lectures — even about venereal disease. Generally, it was a miserable journey for two whole days. The weather was not very good. We left Newport in convoy and took a long way round to get to France, making for the west coast through a very rough Bay of Biscay. I think almost everyone was very sick and I felt all the worse for having no overcoat. At one stage I thought ‘If I am going to lose my life in this war, I hope it happens now’. However, once out of the Bay it wasn’t too bad.

One day we had lifeboat drill. The simple idea of this is that everyone should know exactly where to assemble if the ship in danger. Having previously been told where, you do this immediately an alarm is sounded — at the double. The first time this exercise happened we all rushed on deck, some half-dressed and just as we were. Afterwards the O.C. had us on parade and complained about the disgraceful turnout. He then said “Any questions?” I said I thought the idea was that we got to our posts as quickly as possible regardless. I was then told, in no uncertain terms, that you would be properly dressed at all times. So it seemed that if the boat was going down and you were not properly dressed, it would be against regulations.

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