The Weekend Trippers
by
Carole McEntee-Taylor
Edited by John Leete
Copyright 2011 Carole McEntee-Taylor
2nd Edition
All rights reserved.
Smashwords edition
DEDICATION
To Ted Taylor 1918 – 2009
1RB/1KRRC
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thanks to David and Jenny, The Rifles Museum Winchester and Field Marshal Lord Bramall for all his support.
Ted before the war
Ted as a young man
Ted with his brothers
Rifle Brigade Insignia
Brenda before the war
Crofton Park Baptist Church
Chapter 2 Perhaps we’re going to Norway ?
Chapter 3 Five rounds rapid fire
Chapter 4 If I’d wanted to be a sailor I’d have joined the Navy
Chapter 5 Too close for comfort
Chapter 6’Like hell let loose on earth’
Chapter 10 ‘The Weekend Trippers’
Chapter 11 Out of the frying pan
by
Field Marshall Lord Bramall, KG, GCB, OBE, MC
Having joined the Kings Royal Rifle Corps (60th Rifles) in 1942 and, many years later, being one of the first commanding officers of the Royal Green Jackets, into which my regiment, together with Ted Taylor’s, The Rifle Brigade, had merged, it is a great pleasure to write a foreword to this account of Ted’s wartime experiences, particularly the Battle of Calais in 1940. The more so since Ted served with me after the war as a member of my staff when I got to know him very well and held him in the highest respect.
This is an account, based on Ted’s diaries and reminiscences which well captures a Rifleman’s view of this hard fought battle. The defence of Calais, a stubborn, desperate, and heroic resistance against overwhelming odds, which made a great contribution to the successful evacuation of the BEF from Dunkirk, and thus to the army that, retrained and re-equipped I was to join two years later, returning in 1944 over to the Normandy beaches to ultimate victory.
Very few survivors of that battle could be evacuated by sea, and with the weary and wounded taken prisoner, Ted was among those denied the opportunity of taking any further part in the war, and marched off to five long years of captivity in Poland. An impressive granite memorial now stands near the harbour mouth to commemorate the two hundred and four of Ted’s comrades in the Kings Royal Rifle Corps, The Rifle Brigade and the Queen Victoria Rifles who lost their lives in that battle.
In the words of the Annals of the Kings Royal Rifle Corps, whose Second Battalion fought alongside Ted’s unit at Calais ‘To create heroic legends, successful and heroic objectives are necessary, and what better one can there be than to sacrifice oneself so that others can escape.’
In February 2007 the Royal Green Jackets found themselves once more at a point in its history where change was required - the formation of The Rifles – a reorganisation which Ted lived long enough to see. Among the rich and unique legacies which this new regiment inherits from the Royal Green Jackets are many of its battle honours, prominent among which is ‘Calais’, an inspiration, challenge and poignant reminder to today’s young Riflemen of that distant, yet still echoing battle, a central theme of this absorbing book.
Bramall
May 1945
The view from the chin gun turret of the Flying Fortress B-17G was impressive for those used to it. For its current passengers however, lying face down on the floor of the aircraft, gazing at the view below, well, it was just something else to add to the wonder of the moment. The two .50-cal guns that normally formed part of the aircrafts impressive armoury had been removed to make enough room for two people to lie down in the space normally reserved for one to sit.
The passengers though were not interested in the capabilities of the aircraft, just that it was taking them home. It was over five years since they had left England, five long years during which they had seen things no one should ever have to see or to live through. Many frightening and brutal years had passed since they had last seen those they loved and since they could feel safe. It was over now though, life was going to begin again. There would be time to remember, now was for looking forward, to spending time with those who had waited, those who had never given up hope that one day they would come back.
Ted Taylor gazed out through the Perspex window onto the sea below, unable to believe that he was finally going home. Later that day he would once again walk along the streets of London and then up the front path to number 62a Stondon Park, SE 23 and perhaps then it might be as if the last few dramatic years had never happened.
The sun played off the water creating patterns on the gently rolling waves. The circling sea gulls soared through the air, gliding on the currents as they hunted for fish. The scene was one of such peace and tranquillity that it had a timeless quality to it, yet it was so different from his memories of the last time that he could hardly believe it was the same place. Ted fought back the memories that suddenly threatened to overtake him and instead forced himself to concentrate on the present. Soon he would be home, back in the arms of his Mum and his brothers and he would finally be able to marry Brenda, who had waited all this time for him.
Just thinking about them all bought a smile to his lips. It was only the letters from his family and Brenda that had kept him going month after month, year after exhausting year. He had been doggedly determined not to allow the camps with their regime of brutality and sense of desolation to break him. He had determined that he would survive and that he would eventually tell his story. The world should never be allowed to forget the madness that had engulfed it because by forgetting, it could allow itself to slip into that same madness again. Ted pondered, no one should ever forget the sacrifices they had made, the sacrifices of those who would never come back.
Glancing round at his companion, he was suddenly shocked to see how thin and old he looked. For some reason he hadn’t noticed before. Did he look like that too he wondered? He knew his clothes were very loose, but he had somehow put that down to the fact that they were borrowed clothes. Why hadn’t he noticed before how pale they were under their weather beaten skin? Now even the skin on their faces seemed too tight for their skulls. Their youth had gone in the camps, lost through the enforced labour with little or no food and the continual hardships. Yet until that moment, he had not really appreciated the changes in their appearance. Although he was only twenty-five years of age, he looked much older and his eyes had the stare of someone who had seen much more than they should have. Sometimes, in his mind, he only felt twenty, but at others times he felt the weight of those missing years hanging heavy on his shoulders. Maybe Brenda would not recognise him after all this time, maybe she wouldn’t love him looking like this. He pushed the thought from his mind. He had not survived just to worry about things over which he had no control. He was free and nothing was going to dampen his spirits. Only a few more hours and he would finally be home. To his surprise and horror, he felt tears welling up in the corner of his eyes. Rapidly he blinked them away. He had not cried at the many atrocities he had witnessed in the past few years, he was not about to start now. Crying was for ‘sissy’ boys, not men.
‘Not long now’ it was as if Harry, his companion, had picked up his thoughts.
Ted nodded, unable to trust himself to speak for a moment. Clearing his throat, he answered with a question, ‘I wonder if they’ve changed much. Do you think we’ll recognise them?’ Harry looked surprised as if the thought had never occurred to him. Looking at Ted’s face, understanding slowly dawned. ‘Perhaps we should worry about them recognising us. Do we really look that old?’
‘Of course they’ll recognise you’ the welcome American voice broke loud and clear, into their conversation. ‘They’ll be so pleased to see you they won’t care what you look like. They’ll probably have changed a bit too, it’s been a while after all. They’re probably having exactly the same conversation right now.’ It was exactly the right thing to say and both men smiled, relief etched across their war weary faces. Not for the first time since they had boarded his plane, the American wondered what horrors and hardships his guests must have endured. It just proved how indomitable the human spirit was. These guy’s looked like they had been to hell and back yet they had survived.
His friends had seen some of the survivors of the concentration camps and their stories made his blood run cold. He could not understand how anyone could treat another human being in that way. Even less could he understand how the victims survived in such intolerable conditions. He glanced at his watch, only another 30 minutes and they would land at Ford airfield at the foot of the Sussex Downs. Then his guests would be on their way, home to their families. He wondered idly how their lives would turn out, would they find the happiness and peace they craved. He sure hoped so. They needed a land ‘fit for heroes’, he only hoped they could build it out of the ruins that were left of many of the major cities. They would find that a bit of a shock. The England they had left behind would be unrecognisable. Familiar landmarks would be gone, friends and family no more.
‘Look to your right’ the American’s voice broke into their thoughts again and they looked obediently in the direction he had indicated. Ted and Harry could see the white Cliffs of Dover rising majestically in the far distance. The iconic sight immediately rendered both men speechless. It was something they had dreamt about, but had never realistically expected to see again. Ted closed his eyes, not only to hide the emotion that was threatening to overwhelm him again, but to offer up a silent prayer of thanks to whatever God had kept him alive and had allowed him to experience this moment when so many of his friends hadn’t.
When Ted opened his eyes again, the cliffs and beaches with their barbed wire and warning signs had gone and the land, like an enormous patchwork quilt, spread out beneath them. Trees, ploughed fields, villages, country lanes, and people all passed below while Ted watched with a sense of wonder. From this height, it all seemed a little unreal and dreamlike. He had to pinch himself to be sure it was really happening. He suddenly felt hungry, hunger was something he had become accustomed to because since their capture, food had always been in short supply.
Yet this was a different hunger, it was a hunger to begin his life again, to forget everything, to relegate his experiences to the status of a bad dream. It was time to move on, to concentrate on building a future, to have a family and children. As the aircraft circled the airfield and began its descent, Ted smiled. He turned to Harry who was looking at him and saw his own happiness reflected back. The two men laughed and then shook hands, still unable to believe this was really happening. For the first time in many long, terror- filled years Ted Taylor was home.
The Cricket Match
21st May 1940
Suffolk
Howzat!’, the thud of the ball colliding with the wicket was followed by the exultant cheer of a tall lanky young man known as Chalky. The noise resounded round the small village green in sleepy Needham Market in Suffolk.
The umpire, Major Michael Smiley, raised his hand and the batsman turned dejectedly and began the long walk back to the edge of the green where the rest of 6th Platoon was sitting. It was the afternoon of the 21st May 1940 and the men of the 1st Battalion, The Rifle Brigade, were for the most part relaxing in the early spring sunshine and enjoying the inter platoon cricket match. The news from Europe in the last few weeks had been even worse than the news from the Navy had been over the past few months and it seemed ages since the men had been able to relax and enjoy anything. After Poland had fallen, it had gone quiet in Europe leaving many to call it the ‘bore war’. It would later be known as the ‘phoney war’ – an American expression, but at sea the war had been far from ‘a bore’.
On the very day war was declared, The Athena, a passenger liner sailing from Glasgow to Montreal, was torpedoed by a German U-boat with considerable loss of life. A few weeks later on the 14th October, a German U-boat had sunk the battleship Royal Oak while it lay at anchor in the naval base at Scapa Flow in the Orkneys and in December 1939, German planes had begun bombing and strafing fishing boats in the North Sea. On the 9th April 1940, Germany had invaded Norway and Denmark and the war had suddenly moved a step closer. Then on the very day Hitler’s tanks invaded the Netherlands, Belgium and Luxembourg, Mr Winston Churchill became Prime Minister and Minister of Defence.
In May 1940, the 1st Battalion was one of the most experienced regular battalions in Britain because as well as their newly trained conscripts which included Ted and his friends, they also had within their ranks, several well trained reservists. They were commanded by a well-respected officer, Lieut.-Colonel Chandos Hoskyns, appointed Commander on the 27th August 1938. He had gained invaluable combat experience in the Great War and this had been supplemented by service in India and Malta. On 15th May, in response to the continuing bad news from the continent, the 1st Battalion, a motorised Battalion of about 750 men, had received orders to load up their kit and equipment and move north east to East Anglia. Here they were to continue to prepare to defend the country against a possible invasion.
The long journey north from Bournemouth where they had been based had been reasonably uneventful although rumours of paratroopers in the Chelmsford area had forced a stop on route. Enthusiastic that at last they might have a sighting of the enemy, the men had made a thorough search of the surrounding area, enjoying the opportunity to put their skills to the test. However the alarm had proved fruitless and the men assumed it was just the result of another of the many unfounded rumours sweeping the country in the wake of yet more bad news from Europe. The search completed, they had climbed wearily back into their trucks and continued onwards to Suffolk and the small village of Needham Market.
In the distance the church clock could be heard striking four and the gentle breeze that had kept the air cool throughout the day was rustling the leaves and the spring blossom on the cherry trees that were set round the edge of the green. At a later date, the poignancy and serenity of the scene would become apparent to those who witnessed it. It would be seen as symbolic of the calm before the storm and a memory to sustain them through the dark days that were to come.
On the 21st May 1940 those present had no way of knowing how their lives were about to change. After several days of back breaking work, digging trenches in the heavy East Anglian clay soil and constructing fortified roadblocks on all the routes leading to the coast, the men of B Company were just pleased to finally have some time to relax. The defences they had constructed were intended to impede the progress of any enemy force that was foolhardy enough to attempt to invade the heavily fortified island. At least that was what they had been told and that’s what the people of Britain hoped. Despite the continuing bad news, there was still a strong belief in the invincibility of the armed forces and a certainty that the Germans would never really get that very far. Despite this optimism however, the continuous rumours of enemy landings fuelled by the very real fear of invasion since the fall of Belgium and Holland, had kept the soldiers busy.
The countryside was now criss-crossed with defensive trenches several feet deep and the roads were obstructed by fortified road-blocks made from ‘knife racks’ with barbed wire running across and ringed with defensive trenches, forming an effective deterrent to anyone trying to crash through without stopping. (In 1974 a war game between the German generals who had planned Operation Sea Lion and those who had designed the defences, came to the conclusion that although the Germans could have landed, they would have only managed to progress 15 miles inland before being beaten back.
Those not taking an active part in the days inter-platoon cricket match were scattered in groups round the edge of the green, smoking, chatting, playing cards and contributing various supportive and not so supportive, comments. Inter-platoon cricket matches like everything else that set one platoon against another, always generated plenty of friendly rivalry as well as fostering the close bond between the men that an effective army relies on. The comments and heckling of the watching soldiers were much to the amusement of the local village children who were congregating on the edge of the field watching the cricket.
Although the soldiers had been camped there for several days now the children were still not used to seeing so many people in this sleepy Suffolk village and they were making the most of this unexpected event. The arrival of the soldiers had acted like a magnet to the children who felt that something exciting was finally happening. Some of the older children had already spent the last few spring evenings after school hanging round the edge of the hastily erected army camp on the green, chatting to the soldiers and trying to avoid the attentions of the Company Sergeant Majors and other officers.
On the few occasions they had been spotted, they had been shouted at to ‘scarper’ which had made it more like an exciting game. Rather than acting as a deterrent, it had in fact acted as an incentive to keep coming back. Because many of the soldiers had younger brothers and sisters, they had welcomed the youngsters and had even let them help with some of their camp duties although requests to help dismantle, clean and reassemble rifles had met with a resounding ‘no’, much to the disappointment of the older boys’. Similar requests to ‘have a go with your rifle mister’ also met with a curt response. Other soldiers gave the youngsters letters to post or they were sent into the village to buy cigarettes and bottles of the local beer.
The children especially liked this ‘job’ more than anything else because the soldiers let them keep the change or the occasional cigarette cards they found. Cigarette cards were now in short supply because they were no longer included in the packets as a way of saving cardboard and paper for the war effort. It was only the older pre-war packets that still had the cards and as it was now nearly nine months since war had been declared, these were virtually non-existent. Adverts on the packets had also decreased as had the posters proclaiming the virtues of one brand over another. The only posters adorning shops now were either pre-war adverts or wartime information posters.
Wartime information posters had proliferated rapidly since September 1939 as the Ministry of Information sought to impart various messages to the public, most of whom were either uninterested or who complained bitterly about all the restrictions that were now in place. The posters most common at the time included those encouraging evacuees to stay in the country, those warning of fifth columnists and those warning of the dangers of careless talk. Others gave information about the various penalties civilians could incur if they spent too long on the phone, used the telegraph system for anything other than an emergency or didn’t save their waste paper, cardboard and other useful recyclable materials.
Although many evacuees had returned home by this time despite the government’s attempts to make them stay in the countryside, for the remaining few living in the village the chance to hear London accents again was even more important. Many had felt abandoned and very homesick so the chance to meet people who reminded them of home was a real tonic. There was also the added bonus that for once, they had the advantage over the local children in that they were able to understand the soldiers’ slang, something the local children were unable to do. This had improved the evacuees ‘standing’ among their peers and had gone some way to helping them become more accepted.
The impromptu cricket match on the green that Monday afternoon had attracted many of the children. With them came their younger brothers and sisters, all eager to be a part of this exciting happening in the village. The children of course had to carry gas masks which were a source of continual irritation, not least because of the smell and the horrible uncomfortable way that wearing them made the children feel. Even the ‘novelty’ Mickey Mouse ones for younger children had not entirely overcome the reluctance to wear them. They also hated having to carry them around everywhere and resented the amount of trouble they got into if they forgot. However, inventive as always, they found they made reasonable footballs and goalposts when the adults weren’t looking.
The bowling had now switched to the other end of the pitch and Jones was about to bowl. A tall well-built man with thick black hair, Jones was an excellent all round sportsman known affectionately by all as Taffy. He was a slow bowler and as the ball curved in the air the batsman clipped it with his bat under cutting it and sending it straight up in the air towards one of the waiting fielders. ‘Yes’ Jones shouted ecstatically, but it wasn’t to be as the fielder fumbled it and the ball fell to the ground. Jones held his head in his hands groaning as the batsman took the chance to grab an extra run fortunately however all was not lost as the fielder quickly recovered his wits. Throwing himself spread-eagled onto the floor and grabbing the ball, he quickly threw it towards Ted Taylor, the platoon’s wicket keeper who had already spotted the opportunity and had positioned himself accordingly. ‘Over here, quick’ he shouted from his position just to the left of the wicket. A wiry man of five foot seven and three quarters, with dark brown hair, laughing grey eyes and an engaging smile, Ted was invariably optimistic that whenever they played any team games, his team would win.
Waiting with his hands cupped he watched as the ball soared through the air towards him. As it came closer, he raised his hands slightly and the ball dropped neatly into his cupped palms. Quick as a flash his hands moved to the side and knocked off the stumps of the wicket as the batsman slid feet first towards the wicket, slightly too late. ‘Gotya’ his shout of triumph was cut short as the familiar sound of a motor cycle engine was heard in the distance. Distracted, Ted turned towards the sound as did everyone else.
‘Aye aye – something’s up’ they all thought. Chalky too had also lost interest in the cricket as the sound of the motorcycle broke through the silence. The heckling also stopped as the gaze of the waiting soldiers followed the dispatch rider as the bike went off road and travelled the short distance across the cricket ground towards the Major who was umpiring. They watched in astonishment as the rider pulled up in front of him and he leapt off his bike. Without waiting to stand it up properly or remove his goggles the dispatch rider spoke rapidly to the Major who then climbed on the back of the bike and went off in haste to the Company office in the village. With no one left to umpire, the game stopped abruptly and the men stood looking at each other not sure what they should be doing, but each sensing that something momentous had, or was about to, happen.
For Ted, it felt as if the world had suddenly gone into slow motion. Although he could see that the sun was still shining and the breeze was still nudging the few clouds across the blue spring sky, it was as if a shadow had crossed the sun. He shivered as if there was a sudden chill in the air, perhaps a kind of premonition of things to come. In the village the Colonel had by now summoned the 2IC, Major Alexander Allen and the Company Sergeant Major (CSM) and after the customary salutes and a few brief words he disappeared back into his office leaving the CSM to pass on the orders. The CSM was a professional soldier with considerable experience yet even he was taken aback by the speed of their impending departure. There would be none of the usual briefings, the Battalion was to be packed up and ready to move in just four hours. There was not even time for the men to contact their families, in fact there was little time for anything other than to break camp, pack up their kit and equipment and refuel and board the trucks.
He shook his head, a sense of foreboding overcoming his normal calm unruffled demeanour, but the training of many years kicked in and facing the troops he barked out the orders.
‘Right, everyone fall in. We’re breaking camp. At the double, quick March!’ The last word was elongated and shouted and his voice echoed across the green to the watching children. Galvanised by the sudden change of pace the children watched, transfixed as the soldiers marched across the green at their rapid Rifle Brigade pace.
Excitedly, but unsuccessfully they tried to copy the frenetic marching of the soldiers as they complied with the order. These attempts at double quick marching would normally have induced a wry smile of amusement from the CSM, but his mind was on other things. They had been ordered to break camp, to pack up their kit and equipment and wait for the transport. However, other than knowing they were moving out he had been given no further information as to where they were going or what they were expected to do once they arrived. He tried to ignore the warning voice in his head, but try as he might it wouldn’t go away. In the village the CO watched the preparations with a heavy heart.
What he couldn’t tell the men right then was that they were going to Southampton.
To ensure that there was no careless talk in the village whilst they were breaking camp, they would be told once they were on the trucks and underway. After Southampton the CO had no idea where they were going however, he could make a shrewd guess that if they were going to Southampton there was a fair chance they would be going to France. Once in Southampton they would join up with the 2nd Battalion, the Kings Royal Rifle Corps who had until then been deployed in Bury St Edmonds, their role, like that of The Rifle Brigade was to stop any invasion on the East Coast.
The British Expeditionary Force (BEF) was in trouble and it was perhaps not wildly inaccurate to suggest that the troops were probably being sent to reinforce them. What the CO didn’t know was that once in Calais the troops would join the 1st Battalion, Queen Victoria Rifles Territorial Army unit and the 3rd Royal Tank Regiment who had already deployed and were, at that time, already under fire in France. This would reunite the various elements of 30th Brigade which had originally been put together to prevent the Germans invading Norway. Unfortunately they had been too late as Norway had already fallen so instead they had been split up and deployed separately. Now they would be bought together again to do the job they had originally been intended for, this time in France.
Once there, they would also be supported by part of a Searchlight Regiment and also by a section of an anti-aircraft Regiment. Together with about 800 French soldiers they would all come under the command of Brigadier Claude Nicholson. This would leave a total of about 4,000 men facing the might of the 10th German Panzer Division which at peak strength had 15,000 men and about 150 tanks. Although about half the German tanks were out of action, the Calais Force would still be outnumbered by at least three to one.
However, that was all in the future to the hastily packing men.
Perhaps we are going to Norway
21st/22nd May 1940
It took much longer to break camp than anticipated and it was eleven o’clock by the time the 300 open trucks were finally loaded and ready to go. The men climbed in wearily to begin their journey. Much of the delay in setting off had been because many of the trucks had needed refuelling. The official petrol pumps had run dry so the much-needed fuel had to be sourced from elsewhere, all of which had taken time. After the warmth of the day the night air was cool and although the new greatcoats provided the men with some protection, the movement of the trucks increased the wind-chill factor until they found themselves huddling together for warmth. When that failed they tried stamping their feet and rubbing their hands together to try and restore some circulation to their cold feet and hands.
The transport included some very ancient 30 cwt. trucks, which to the men in the back seemed to travel at a maximum speed of about 12 mph. Travelling uphill was even more laborious and on some of the steeper hills the trucks could only manage about half that speed. However, the drivers soon made up for this by speeding downhill albeit much to the concern of the passengers who were bouncing about unrestrained in the back.
The quiet and dark country lanes provided little to look at other than the occasional red eyes of a fox or rabbit caught in the dim glow of the headlights of the truck. This did not happen very often because for part of the way they had to drive with the headlights off to prevent any possibility of showing lights to enemy aircraft. None of the drivers had maps so they had to rely on the occasional signpost to prevent them from getting lost. By now Ted, like many of his companions, was very tired and although he tried hard to doze, the movement of the truck kept shaking him awake. ‘God, this is bloody miserable, I hope we’re not going wherever it is that we’re going, all the way by these back roads. Haven’t they heard of main roads’ Chalky was one of Ted’s best friends, but was well known for always finding something to moan about.
‘Suppose it depends on where it is that we’re going.’ Ted responded abruptly, his normal good humour lost as he tried in vain to shield himself from the cold draughts circulating round the truck. He was so tired that even talking was becoming too much effort. Giving up on trying to sleep he took out his cigarettes and put one in his mouth. Cupping his hands round the match, he tried several times to strike it. Every time he managed to get it to light, the wind blew it out and he had to start again. Taffy who was watching him struggle finally took the matches from him and using Ted’s hands to protect the match from the wind eventually managed to get a strike. ‘Self-interest’ he said waving away Ted’s thanks and pulling out his own cigarette he reached across and used Ted’s lit one to get his own started.
Sitting back as much as he could to get out of the wind Ted drew heavily on his cigarette and said ‘Anybody got any ideas where we’re going?’ The question was casual enough, but underneath the nonchalance Ted had a feeling they were going overseas. He wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about that, a mixture of fear and anticipation was probably the best way to describe it. After all that was what he had been trained to do and a part of him couldn’t wait to put the things he had been taught into practice. The first units of the BEF had been sent over in September 1939 and it had gradually been added to over the past few months. There were now several hundred thousand men in France and although he had not had much contact with his father over the past few years he knew his father was one of those troops. He wasn’t sure exactly where he was, but he was attached to one of the supply units of the BEF so the chances were that he was already fighting the Germans.
‘Perhaps we’re going to Norway’ Chalky said thoughtfully. ‘No, I think we’ve blown that one, Hitler’s already got his feet in the door there’ Taffy opened his eyes just long enough to make his contribution to the discussion. ‘Apparently we’re going to Southampton’ a voice from the other end of the truck piped up.
‘How do you know?’ Rob asked
‘I heard a couple of the officers talking before we left’ the disembodied voice responded. ‘They were going to tell us once we were underway’. ‘And after Southampton?’ Ted asked. ‘Dunno’ the voice replied ‘Don’t think they knew. I think they’d just been told Southampton’
‘Right’, Ted looked at Chalky who was nearest and for once neither of them could think of anything else to say. It sounded as if they were definitely going overseas. Ted finished his cigarette and tossing it out into the dark silent countryside he closed his eyes and found himself reliving the last few hectic months. Much to his initial dismay, he had received his call up papers almost immediately war had been declared, with orders to report to Winchester on the 15th September 1939. Winchester, Hampshire was the Regimental home of the Rifle Brigade and the 60th Rifles. As a Londoner, Ted had been sent to join the 1st Battalion the Rifle Brigade which recruited mainly from the London area.
It had all happened so quickly there had been little time to think about it. At first, he was not very enthusiastic after all he was perfectly happy with his life as it was. He enjoyed his job, liked his workmates and in general life was good. He had worked at Greens Engineering on the production line making spiral staircases and fire escapes since leaving school at the age of 14, some six years earlier. He was settled and content. Ted was a gentle, considerate and hard -working boy who attended church regularly and had taken on the role of a Sunday school teacher. He loved nature and had been bought up to believe that killing was wrong, He was not sure that he would really be able to kill someone, even if they were trying to kill him. However, as a young fit 20 year old in a non-reserved occupation he had no choice in the matter.
Reluctantly he had said goodbye to his colleagues who wished him well and then he had gone home to pack up the belongings he wanted to take with him. He then said goodbye to his Mum and his two brothers. His Mum had been really upset although she had tried not to show it, but his brothers, Cyril who was two years younger and Bernard who was four years younger, were envious and couldn’t wait for their turn. He had also said goodbye to his girlfriend Brenda who was in her second year training to be a nurse at Lambeth Hospital.
He had met Brenda through the Crofton Park Baptist Church when he was a member of the Boys Brigade and she was a member of the Girls Brigade. They had become firm friends at first, sharing the same sense of humour, religious beliefs and outlook on life. As they got older, the friendship developed until they both finally realised that they meant more to each other than just being friends. The outbreak of war had only strengthened that feeling yet it was tempered with the sudden realisation that their future together was no longer certain.
It didn’t seem any time at all since that momentous broadcast by Chamberlain saying that they were at war with Germany. Ted’s life had changed irrevocably and there he was in Winchester and about to begin his training. Thirteen weeks passed and Ted could hardly believe it was Christmas already and time for his first leave. He had packed up his ‘civvy’ clothes which they were instructed to take home and then hurried to the Guard House where he had to pass inspection before being allowed out. From there he went out through the mediaeval West Gate, over the bridge and across the road to the station to catch the train home. He almost felt sad to be leaving Winchester with its feeling of timeless history and the cobbled square that sparked when their steel capped boots marched at rapid pace across them. After Christmas, he would go immediately to Tidworth on Salisbury Plain to complete his training to be a driver of a Bren gun carrier.
Christmas 1939 was a time of great happiness yet it was tinged with an indefinable sadness. Although he was used to wearing his uniform and carrying his rifle on base it felt strange to be in uniform at home. It was even stranger to have to carry his rifle and a little ammunition around with him, but whilst he was happy to be reunited with his Mum, brothers and Brenda there was an underlying feeling of sadness that things had already begun to change. He only had a couple of days, no sooner had he arrived then it was time to go back. Everywhere he looked there were people in uniforms, sandbags protected all the public buildings and many gardens had already been turned over to vegetables and some already had an Anderson shelter dug in. He had barely recognised his family’s garden with the cumbersome Anderson shelter now taking pride of place, its entrance facing away from the house in order to minimise blast damage if the house was hit.
According to his Mum there were numerous strict specifications about building Anderson shelters and she and his brothers had spent ages trying to make sure they didn’t fall foul of any of the regulations. There had to be at least 15 inches of earth on top and 30 inches at the sides, otherwise they would not provide effective protection against bombing. To conform to requirements all shelters had to be in place by June of 1940. Communal shelters also began to appear in the streets and many businesses had opened up their cellars so that staff had somewhere to shelter.
Although many people in the suburbs had either got Anderson shelters or access to communal shelters, some preferred to stay in their homes and take shelter under the table or under the stairs. This led to many unnecessary deaths, yet some of the communal shelters were also death traps. Although the obvious place to shelter in London would have been the underground stations this was initially discouraged by the Government as they were frightened that the population would disappear below ground and not come back out again. This fear stemmed from pre-war reports which exaggerated the number of casualties that might result from sustained bombing raids. These reports which had been based on studies undertaken during the inter war years, exaggerated the number of deaths that would occur as a result of air raids and also discounted the number of people likely to be homeless and injured. This was to lead to severe shortages of accommodation and rescue centres because councils had completely underestimated the number of survivors who would become homeless.
For many people, the war meant restrictions on their freedoms, an increase in prices and shortages of goods. This was beginning to create divisions between the civilian population and those in the armed forces and merchant navy. For Ted at least, Christmas was a time for forgetting divisions and spending time with those he loved and this year he had a particular important reason for really looking forward to it.
Christmas dinner was a meal Ted always enjoyed and this year was no different. Fortunately, rationing had not yet begun and they were able to buy most of the food they normally enjoyed although there wasn’t quite as much as there used to be!
Ted was noticeably distracted throughout the meal and his Mum was quite concerned that he seemed distant. Ted brushed off her questioning with a nervous laugh, excusing his distraction by saying he was disorientated by being home again. The rest of the day passed quickly and Ted was relieved that his Mum didn’t really have another chance to question him. When she did ask him again later, he then pretended that it was just because he was not used to sitting around. He did have something on his mind though, but he did not want to say anything, not until he had spoken to Brenda.
As arranged, Brenda came round to the house for dinner on Boxing Day and because she had not seen Ted since September, she arrived early, eager to spend as much of the day with him as possible. Ted though seemed edgy and unlike his normal self so Brenda asked him several times if everything was alright. He was definitely behaving strangely and she was beginning to wonder if he didn’t want to go out with her anymore. Feeling very nervous now, she nodded at his suggestion to go for a walk and so went to get her coat from the hall stand
With her coat on, she followed Ted out into the icy streets. He put his arm round her and pulled her close, this made her feel a lot better. If he didn’t want to be with her he would have kept his distance, She wanted to ask him again whether there was anything wrong, but sensed it would be best to let him talk in his own time. They walked in silence for a while, Brenda enjoying the sensation of feeling him close to her. They were walking in the direction of the river and as they approached it Ted spoke for the first time since they had left the house.
‘Brenda, you know I love you don’t you?’
She smiled nervously, this was it then ‘Yes I know Ted, I love you too’
‘Well I was thinking, we’ve known each other over four years now and as we’ve said we both love each other and, well, I thought perhaps we should, that is it might be nice to, well perhaps, do you think we could get engaged’. There, he’d said it! Even if it was after much stuttering and stammering and it hadn’t quite come out how he’d intended.
Brenda looked at him in astonishment, relief and happiness as she realised that he hadn’t found someone else and he didn’t want to leave her.
‘Is that a proposal?’ she asked anxiously, she had to make sure, she would hate to get it wrong.
‘Yes’ he grinned, relieved that he had finally managed to ask her, but still nervous in case she turned him down. ‘Wasn’t a very good proposal was it?!’
‘Well you should really get down on your knees and ask’ she responded laughingly. ‘But it is very cold and I wouldn’t want you to get cold knees Ted!’ she shrieked. Much to the amused stares of the few people brave enough to be walking around, he knelt down on the cold frozen river bank and said much more coherently. ‘Will you marry me?’
‘Yes, yes, of course I will’ and with great delight he swung her round in his arms and they kissed passionately, oblivious of the war that was soon to tear them apart. ‘I’ve been worried sick in case you turned me down’
‘You were acting so strangely I thought you were going to tell me you had found someone else’.
Laughing, they kissed again and then held each other close, wishing this moment could go on for ever and that they would never have to go back to the real world where their only contact would be letters and maybe the occasional phone call.
‘When do you want to get married?’ he asked. ‘I don’t know, we’ll need time to organise it and we don’t really know where you are going to be or what’s going to happen so maybe we should think about some time in 1941, the summer maybe? Perhaps the war will be over then. What do you think?’ ‘I don’t know if I can wait that long’ Ted looked at her seriously ‘But it makes sense I suppose. Oh, I nearly forgot’ he said grinning like an idiot and fumbling in his uniform pockets ‘I bought you this. It’s a ring’ he added as she opened the small box. The ring was beautiful and it fitted perfectly. Brenda kept looking at it unable to believe she was engaged.
‘Is it alright?’ Ted asked anxiously as she looked at it for what seemed like the umpteenth time without speaking. ‘Yes, it’s just so beautiful I just can’t help looking at it. Oh Ted, I’m so happy and I love you so much’
Relieved he held her close again and then said reluctantly ‘I suppose we’d better go home or we’ll be late for dinner.’
‘Hello Mum’ Ted started to speak but didn’t get the chance to finish before Brenda, showing off her ring, interrupted him, ‘Ted’s asked me to marry him’. Everyone was talking at once and congratulating them and it was only when there was a silent moment that a small voice said ‘So did you say yes then’, everyone laughed and Ted jokingly shook his fist at Bernard, his youngest brother.
The rest of the day was spent in celebrating and after lunch they went round to Brenda’s house where Ted formerly asked Brenda’s aunt and uncle who were her guardians, for her hand in marriage. Brenda’s aunt and uncle were not surprised, having expected it for some time. They liked Ted and knew that he was honest, hard-working and reliable. Having given their permission, they added their congratulations and then withdrew discretely leaving them on their own to say their goodbyes.
It was now getting late and Ted knew that he had better head home and get ready to go back to Winchester early the next morning, but he really didn’t want to go. Brenda followed him to the door and down the stone steps into the street. A cold wind was blowing and it was icy cold as they stood outside her house in Brockley. She put her arms round him and they held each other in a long embrace wishing the world would go away and leave them alone so they could stay like that forever. Reluctantly, time was passing and she would have to let go, so Brenda pulled back and look straight into Ted’s eyes.
‘You will look after yourself won’t you?’
‘Of course I will, nothing’s going to happen to me. I’ve got you to come back to and nothing’s going to stop me doing that.’ He looked and sounded so confident that Brenda found herself believing him. ‘I really have to go sweetheart’ Ted kissed her gently then pulled away smiling. He turned and walked away as Brenda stood watching, trying hard to stem the tears. It wouldn’t do to let his last sight of her to be one of her crying. She made a supreme effort and when he turned back at the corner for one last wave, his last view of her was of her waving with a big smile on her face. Whenever he closed his eyes after that and thought of her it was always that image that came to the surface.
Once Christmas was over he had returned to Winchester and from there he was sent to Tidworth where he learnt to drive a Bren Gun Carrier. That had been one of the most enjoyable times of his training. Surprisingly enough, although the carrier used tracks instead of wheels, it was not that difficult to learn to drive and it hadn’t taken Ted any time at all to get used to it. Although he hadn’t seen his fiancée since Christmas he had received several letters from her and some from his Mum and he had been so busy that he hadn’t realised just how much time had elapsed since he had last seen them.
Things had not improved on the war front and at the beginning of May, Neville Chamberlain had been forced to resign as Prime Minister. Because they could not hold elections in wartime the new choice of leader had come down to two people. Lord Halifax had been the preferred choice, but he was closely connected to what was increasingly being called the ‘Peace in our time’ fiasco and the Labour Party had refused to endorse him. So, despite the catastrophic failure of the Norway campaign, on the 10th May, Winston Churchill had taken over as Prime Minister and Minister of Defence. The fall of Norway and Denmark was swiftly followed by the collapse of Belgium, Luxembourg and the Netherlands and now France was next in line.
When they had got their orders earlier in the month, some had thought they were going to Norway and others thought it more likely that they would go to France. Instead they had been deployed to Needham Market to prepare for the possible invasion that everyone thought was going to happen. Yet it had all been really quiet and at the ripe old age of 21, Ted was looking forward to putting his training into action. However, as it would be the first time he had been out of England, he would have liked the chance to have told Mum and Brenda where he was going so they didn’t worry when they didn’t hear from him. But he wasn’t about to tell his mates that or he would never live it down! For Ted in May 1940 the biggest issue seemed to be boredom.
To his relief the trucks finally pulled out of the country lanes onto the main road and the pace quickened. However, his relief was short lived because no sooner had they approached the outskirts of London, than it started to rain. Caught in the open trucks, they were soon soaked to the skin and as the rain continued to fall, water trickled down their necks and made them feel even colder. There wasn’t even the consolation of being able to see anything. From September 3rd 1939, all windows had to be covered after dark so that no chink of light showed. Shops had very quickly sold out of blackout material so all sorts of improvisations had to be used which didn’t matter so long as you made sure no light showed after dark.
It wasn’t just house and shop windows that had to be covered, vehicles had to have their lights dimmed and pointing downwards and streetlamps were filtered with a special screen that directed the light downwards. Despite kerb edges being painted white, the number of road accidents had risen dramatically since the blackout had been in force and well over half of them involved pedestrians, either bumping into each other or into cars. Men had even been encouraged to leave their shirt tails out so they could be seen in the blackout. The number of cars on the road had significantly decreased in 1939 and only those civilians for whom a car was essential were given a basic petrol ration that would allow them to drive a maximum of 1800 miles a year. For those civilians who were not complying, the ARP wardens were ready to enforce the regulations. Going out in the blackout had become a hazardous business. Even torches had been banned!
Staying in night after night wasn’t much fun either. The electricity voltage had been reduced and the BBC regional broadcasts had also been stopped to reduce airwave traffic. They had withdrawn most of the entertaining programmes and replaced them with censored news broadcasts. However, in January, this policy had been overturned in the interest of raising morale and at last more interesting programmes were broadcast. To everyone’s delight ITMA had returned on Thursday nights and had become one of the most listened to programmes. It had also given rise to lots of great wartime catch phrases which everyone used with increasing frequency. ‘It’s That Man Again’ (ITMA) originally began in July 1939 as a swipe at Hitler’s territorial ambitions. Every time he was heard to be making more demands, the comedy show aired with the familiar ‘‘it’s that man again’. It was bought back in January 1940 with Tommy Hanley and was one of the most popular wartime programmes. It was often said that if Hitler had invaded on a Thursday night he would have met no opposition because most of the population was listening to the radio
For Ted and the others, deep in their own thoughts, these things were of no real importance any more. The blackout was just something else to be endured along with the miserable weather. Their real unspoken concerns were solely about where they were going and what they would be expected to do. As the night wore on, the convoy gradually skirted round the suburbs of London and was escorted onto the Great West road by the police. For the most part the journey was silent as the men wrestled with their thoughts. Like Ted, most of them thought that they were to embark on their first real engagement and although they were looking forward to putting their training into action, there was also a good deal of apprehension about what they could expect. They were also concerned about how they would react under fire.