A Lancashire Lad Goes to War :Chapter 10

We never needed to advance into Italy and eventually sometime late October we were ordered to return to Algiers before heading home. After two or three days at sea we landed and our first night was spent sleeping in the 1st Army’s marquees. It was pitch-dark and as we had long ago run out of matches to light torches or even our cigarettes (at first when we were in Sicily we probably bought a few matches but they were in such short supply that eventually we had to resort to using a magnifying glass and the sun’s rays) we had a sleepless night trying to lie on scratchy bushes. Next morning we could see that the marquees had been pitched over live shrubs - some very tall and some short. There were loads of them and they should have been cut down, but I suppose our rivals enjoyed leaving them knowing how uncomfortable it would be for us. There certainly wasn’t a deal of love lost between the 1st and 8th Armies at that time. Several soldiers caught a cold, but the Medical Officer had sent all of his medication to the battlefront.

His only remedy was to tell us drink the local wines and spirits as that’s all there was to help us. Probably because we had left a dry atmosphere and now we were in a moist area, we were more susceptible to coughs and colds. Still, I suspect the doctor’s cure was enjoyable even if it wasn’t very effective!

I went the town of Algiers, which was about a mile away from where we were billeted, twice more. The second time I was accompanied by my pal Roy Rix and we visited the Blue Moon Exhibition which was the posh name for a brothel. Rather than being seedy and run-down, it was like the foyer of a very expensive hotel. There was a very nice bar where we could order drinks and to one side we could see four exotic dancers who were wearing next to nothing apart from some filmy material which covered very little. We only went in to see what it was like, and we did not take advantage of the ladies. Roy was a married man and I certainly was not going to risk catching some disease. We had no transport back so we walked along the road, and at one point an Arab lorry driving towards us swung off the road and deliberately tried to run us down We ended up leaping into the gutter to avoid it. The Arabs in that part of the world were not easy-going unless they were selling us something. The shop-keepers were friendly but no-one else seemed particularly pleased to see us.

Marking Time

We left Africa at the end of October and sailed home on the Franconia. Sergeant Sinclair appointed me as Military Policeman for the duration of the journey which allowed me to have cups of tea whenever I wanted. As a ‘policeman’ I was the only one allowed in the cookhouse There were always cooks in the cookhouse as they operated twenty-four hours a day, so I certainly took advantage of my status! Shortly after we had passed Gibraltar and entered the Bay of Biscay I saw our escorting Destroyers race ahead to counter-attack a U-boat, and seeing and hearing the exploding depth charges was quite awe-inspiring. I had never witnessed any sea warfare, and the thought of a boat or submarine being blown to bits certainly made me think.

We arrived at Liverpool during the night and marched through the dark streets to the station. There was no band or people to welcome us - in fact it was the early hours of the morning, and no-one was around. The first stop was Victoria Station where I sent a letter to my father at the Ashton Post Office rather than sending it to the house. I did not want my mother to see that I was England, but was not going home. As it was when Dad took the letter home Mother burst into tears when she knew that I had arrived in Manchester but did not know where I was going to next. I soon found out as I was sent to Mistley just outside Manningtree in Essex for some nominal training. Nominal training just meant rechecking that we knew what we were doing. After spending all that time in Africa and Sicily with our equipment it does seems a bit ridiculous to think that I was being trained again; even how to march! We accepted our orders as we always did. The army needed to keep us busy, and at least we had each afternoon off. We were billeted in a big house though I am not sure whether it was a type of residential home or hospital. It had lots of rooms and it took the whole of our troop - sixty people. Eventually from there we were given three weeks' leave, and so I headed back home. Everyone left except, a caretaker who was stayed behind, and as we were able to leave all our equipment including our rifles we were able to travel light.
It was a good leave though I did not meet up with Dorothy - my life with her came later. Neville my youngest brother, who was serving in the Royal Air Force as a pilot was also on leave from goodness knows where! He never discussed what he was doing or where he was going. We never did know. It was the first time we had met up since 1940, and he introduced me to a neighbour called Florence who was at the same aerodrome as him. I realised that the last time I had seen her, she was only a little girl. We became good friends during that holiday; meeting regularly. It was good to be home. Dad was still working as an overseer at Ashton Post Office - they had shut Stalybridge Post Office down. My eldest brother, Harry, was not able to get home even though he was still stationed at Ringway. This was my first home leave since the beginning of June 1942 so I made the most of home comforts, but all too soon it was time to head back to Mistley. There still was not much to do; just wait for orders. We could not go anywhere as we had no trucks - only a three-toner which was used to collect supplies.

Around March I went to Larkhill with Roy Rix for a fortnight. A Canadian was developing a technique for using sound-ranging against mortars, which are quiet and mobile compared with normal artillery. He had a machine the size of a typewriter connected to 2 or 3 microphones. It used tape that was magnetic on the underside and white on top. Pointers activated by the microphones burned through the paper to leave a trace; it was fundamentally the same technique as that we had been using, but the tape did not need developing and therefore gave a more rapid response. All the officers being shown this equipment were dismissive, so I asked whether any of them realised how much damage a mortar could do. The demonstrator thought that the real reason for their reluctance was that they did not want to go as near to the battlefront as was necessary to detect the quiet sound of a firing mortar. A completely new unit was formed - The Mortar Detection Unit in the 4th Durham Survey Regiment. I have no idea if any other survey regiment had taken up The Four Pen Recorder (as it was called) because we never knew what anyone else was doing.

Most of the canteens at Larkhill were crowded, so Roy Rix, who was a Gunner, generally borrowed my greatcoat in order to enter the Bombardiers' Mess where I was able to eat because I was a Lance Bombardier. We also spent a brief time at Urchfont, on the opposite side of Salisbury Plain to the artillery (i.e., where the shells landed). There was a huge area about 30 miles square so we could practice locating the guns at Larkhill. The firing charge for 25-pounder guns came in three colours of cordite, depending upon the desired range. New recruits often chose the wrong colour and some shells had landed in the greenhouse of the Church Minister at Market Lavington. An officer was sent to apologise, but another shell landed in the same place just after he had assured the Minister that it would never happen again.

Eventually we moved on to Clacton-on-Sea. I was in charge of the guardroom and there was an unofficial rule that we had to wake the cooks for the Sergeants' and Officers' Messes at 06:30 each morning. I took the Sergeants' Mess while the sentry took the Officers' Mess (which was further away). There was a danger of our rifles accidentally breaking mirrors and china in the blacked-out mess so we generally left them behind, even though by this time of year dawn was around 04:00. One morning - the day I was to be promoted to full bombardier there was a surprise inspection by a new 2nd Lieutenant while I was in the Sergeants' Mess. He had been with the Regiment for two weeks, in a different Battery to mine, and he charged me with being absent from my post and leaving the guardroom unattended. I was taken before the Colonel and demoted to gunner. My 'Skipper' argued forcefully against this decision, but Colonel Whetton would not change his mind. (A long time afterwards, whilst we were in Holland the Skipper told me that he was trying ‘get me’ a Military Medal but if not that then hopefully a Mentioned in Dispatches award, but both were refused.)

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