Part 18 Summary

Telegraphist Trained Operator Royal Navy

Served in Combined Operations Bombardment Unit with the Long Range Desert Group in Sicily and landings made at Cape Muro di Porco, near Syracuse and Augusta Harbour, in Sicily.

In Italy with the Scots Guards at Anzio, and with the Princess Patricia Canadian Light Infantry at Rimini.

In France with the Fusilier Marines (a French regiment) at Hyeres near Marseilles, southern France.

With the French Maquis (Resistance) took a fortress on the Isle D’Oleron near the estuary of the River Gironde on the west coast of France, in the Bay of Biscay.

The Landing Craft Infantry Small (L.C.I.S.) 2503, sailing between Troon and the island of Arran, with personnel returning from leave, post,

Awarded the 1939-45 Star

The Africa Star with Rosette (for service with the 8^th Army)

The France and Germany Star

The Italy Star

The Victory Medal

The Bombardment Unit’s job was to direct fall of shot from warships out at sea, on to shore targets using the radio with morse code. We were trained up to 22 words per minute. Type 18 army wireless set, then Type 22, carried in white scout car.

Part 17 Demob

On arrival at the camp I was billeted in a Nissen hut along with about 20 hopefuls waiting patiently for their number to be called. We had to parade every morning, and then the numbers of those going on release were called out. It was rather frustrating as the numbers seemed to go up very slowly, and we were all impatient to get back to “civvy street”. We spent most of our time in the camp making briquettes, from piles of coal slack, and bags of concrete, within wooden frames. I hoped they burned O.K. as some of them seemed to have a lot more concrete in them than seemed necessary.

After about 3 weeks my number was called out, I think it was 162, and then I had to proceed to Maryhill Barracks in Glasgow to hand in all my service equipment as required, and collect my civilian attire.

I got a grey lounge suit, shirts, shoes, and a trilby, and when I came out of the stores it was with a great feeling of relief, knowing that I had survived, where thousands had not.

I said thanks to the man at the counter for my civvies beyond description. I also said thanks to the Lord up above for having spared me from is conscription.

Catching a train at Glasgow I went home to my parents’ house at Kelloholm, and they very kindly let Helen, and I, have their front bedroom upstairs, in which to set up house.

I now had to find a job as I had resigned from the job I was doing when called up to the forces. This was a job working for the Ordnance Survey Dept which entailed being in lodgings, and travelling all over the country. This was an interesting job for a single chap but not so good for a married man.

Helen’s brother John was a fireman in Manchester, and this was suggested as a possibility, so I decided to have a go, as John had told me that the Fire Brigade would eventually fix us up with a house. This seemed a good idea, as my assets consisted of Helen, sixty pounds savings, sixty pounds gratuity, and my demob suit.

Part 16 Service in Scotland

We travelled back across the channel and went back up again to Dundonald Camp.

I wrote to my mother, and Helen, and gave them all my news, and got theirs as well, as there was mail waiting for us on our return. Helen had now got a job as a cook at Prestwick Airport, and was helping to feed the American aircrews. There did not seem to be any shortages for the Yanks as I was told that if they ran out of chocolate the cooks just boiled some Mars bars to make chocolate sauce.

Helen found a room with a family in Ayr, so that it was very handy for both of us.

The Bombardment Unit was disbanded (Many years later I learned that the job is done by the Royal Marines. Info from the new bursar at Rossall School, Fleetwood, who was a former commander in the Royal Navy) and I was then posted to an L.C.I.S. (Landing Craft Infantry Small) 2503, which was stationed at Troon, and run personnel and stores, mail etc, from Troon to Arran where there was a military base. Out in the open sea the little boat bobbed about like a cork, and for the first time in my service, I was seasick. The crew of about 20 were very sympathetic, as most of them had suffered in a similar fashion. Conditions on the boat were very cramped, and it was possible to hold a conversation sat on a lavatory seat, over the top of a half size door with a colleague who could be having his dinner.

About this time lists were issued of numbers relating to a person’s discharge date, which was based upon the length of service; first in, first out, except for a few highly specialised jobs.

I spent most of the time on the boat employed as a seaman as there was no telegraphy required and when in post took my turn at sentry duty on the gangway.

After about one month of this, I was told to go to the lieutenant’s office who was oi/c the boat, and he gave me the necessary travel permits to go to Cookham camp in the south of England. This was a dispersal point for personnel whose release number would soon be coming up.

Part 15 Isle d’Oleron

When I got back to Dundonald Camp, all the required equipment was issued, and our section was told to proceed to the French side of the English Channel, and contact a group of the French maquis (resistance) where the river Gironde run into the Bay of Biscay.

There was a fortress on an island, called Isle d’Oleron, in the Bay, which had been bypassed by our forces, and which was still occupied by Germans. Our forces by this time had just started fighting in Germany.

When we contacted the French group, it was difficult at first to get any order from the assembly as they were all dressed in civilian clothes, and carrying rifles, and tommy guns, but order eventually prevailed, after a lot of arm waving, and shouting.

It was arranged that we would be taken over to the island by a rowing boat in the early hours of the following morning while it was still dark.

Once we had loaded all our gear into the rowing boat it was well down in the water, but we managed to get safely on to the island, the oarsman having kept very quiet, and having muffled his oars. He dropped us on a sandbank, and then rowed himself back to the mainland.

We positioned ourselves comfortably on the sandbank, and the captain, peering over the top with his binoculars, started to work out the map reference for the fortress.

I set up the radio, and got ready to transmit, the supporting warship being French, and called the Montcalm. We had a liaison officer on board shi

Suddenly the sand, a few inches from my body started spurting up, and I thought the worms must be very active in the pile of sand. I realised that the spurts were in time with machine gun fire from the mainland, and I realised that we were being shot at by our allies on the mainland. Someone on the mainland seeing shapes moving about on the island must have thought we were Germans. I swung my radio round to protect my chest, wishing that it was a lot bigger than it was (the radio). Fortunately the bursts of gunfire soon stopped, and we were none the worse.

After I had transmitted the map reference figures to the Montcalm, a few ranging shots came over and soon we were bang on target. We used a clock code to correct the fall of shots. Twelve o’clock being due north, and three o’clock due east, etc, and every 100 yards away from the target was a letter of the alphabet, “A” being 100 yards, “B” two hundred yards and so on. E.g. 6C meant that the shells were falling due south – 300 yards from the target.

Shortly after the shells started landing on the fortress, the Germans ran up the white flag, as they realised that they were fighting a lost cause.

Our friend with the rowing boat came over with a delegation who were going to the fort to arrange the surrender, and he took us back to the mainland. Nobody knew who had been firing at us from the mainland at the start of the operation, or if they did, they were not going to say.

We learned later that the first few shells that had been fired by the Montcalm had simply dropped out of the gun barrel into the sea. Our liaison officer told us that initially the French gunners were getting a bit panic-stricken, but they got it right in the end.

Part 14 To Scotland

Having got safely back to Dundonald camp, and handed in all my armaments, I was gives a pass, railway warrant, and food ration coupons for nearly a month’s leave. I must have had a good tan, because the milkman told my mother that I looked like a n****r. (Sorry, I could not bring myself to publish that word. Please see end of Part 12. RM)

After a few days at home, I contacted Helen, and arranged to see her at the weekend when she came home. Having kept in contact for two years, even although mail deliveries had sometimes been difficult, and came in batches, we seemed to be suited, and so we decided to get engaged.

During my absence overseas Helen had left her job at Walsh’s, and had been directed to work in a machine tool factory, which previously had been a carpet factory. This work had been very noisy, boring, and repetitive, and she hated it.

She was given time off to look after her niece, Margaret Gavin, when her elder sister Mary suffered an injury to her leg.

Helen’s next job was a probationer nurse at Irvine Central Hospital, which entailed her with a lot of studying, and was a bit of an obstacle as regards courtship, but we usually managed to find a way around it.

On completion of my leave, I returned to Dundonald camp, and recommenced the merry cycle of running around once more dressed up like a packhorse. It was tough going, after so long away, but it all came back eventually.

This training was kept up for several months, and then we were given some more leave, prior to going on another operation. This was unexpected, as we seemed to be well on the way to winning the war as our troops were nearing the German border.

During this leave, we decided to get married on the 6^th February 1945, and the happy event took place at the Masonic Hall, Muirkirk, under the auspices of the Rev. John Henderson B.D. who during his little speech at the reception, warned me to beware of the left hand, having noticed the bride was left handed.

Even although rationing was in force, there seemed to be plenty, and everyone seemed to enjoy themselves.

We travelled by bus with my Aunt Janet to Cambuslang, and there was knowing smiles from the rest of the passengers as we hadn’t managed to get all the confetti off our clothing.

The rest of the week was spent with my cousin Nan at Musselburgh, and we spent our time wandering around the sights, and at the zoo in Edinburgh.

Part 13 Language Problem Solved

When I said “Merci beaucoup” (thank you very much) to the French people after a service done, they usually burst out laughing, but nobody would give me an explanation.

Many years later I met a girl who had graduated as a language teacher in French and Italian, and I told her of this wartime experience.

She explained that “beau” means beautiful and “coup” is a slang term for “rounded bottom”. The correct way to say “beaucoup” is to sound them close together, and make the “coup” sound like the “coo” a dove would make.

In my schoolboy French I had been saying “Thank you, beautiful rounded bottom”, and she said that for obvious reasons this variation is not taught in the classroom.

She also supplied the English translation of the Italian propaganda postcards. Pp67-68

(If I ever gain access to the required equipment, I will post images of these postcards. They show Italian soldiers looking heroic, a subhuman, very angry “Bolshevism” and a German and an Italian soldier removing one of John Bull’s teeth. RM)

Part 12 To France, then England

Some time later we were directed to Algiers harbour, and to get on a boat which was going to land us on the south of France. We found that we were to support the Fusilier Marines, which was a French regiment which had been made up from people who were previously on the French Navy boats which had been sunk by the Royal Navy, or scuttled to prevent them falling into German hands. While sailing across the Med. Towards southern France, we heard that some of the merchant seamen were threatening to go on strike, as they didn’t think that they were getting enough danger money. It must have been sorted out, because the operation carried on as planned, and we landed on France on 15-8-44.

We landed on the coastline, near the town of Hyeres which was a few miles from Marseilles, and the landing initially was not opposed. We met with some resistance further inland but the French troops managed to cope. We had to march very fast, because we were throwing a loop round Marseilles as the French Foreign Legion had landed on the other side of Marseilles, and we had to join up with them. They invited us to join with them in their meal at the rendezvous point but we declined with thanks. They were having baby octopi cooked in olive oil, which they seemed to regard as a great delicacy.

Both the French forces turned south, and we entered the Marseilles area. Most of the Germans had fled from the town, so that it didn’t take long to clear the port area, and our ships were soon able to come in and berth.

We spent the night in one of the dock offices, and the following day we were reunited with our white scout car.

Our officer told us that our programme now was to head north up through France towards Paris if it was clear, and then go west, to a Channel port for home.

About halfway towards Paris, we stopped to spend the night in a town where the people were so pleased to be liberated that they put us up in the best hotel in town for free.

The hotel manager told us that if we had been a little earlier that we would have seen one of their freedom celebrations. The partisans had rounded up all the women who had been fraternising with the Germans, and given them the option of having their heads shaved, and being marched through the town, or spending some time with the French Native troops. Most of them chose the former punishment.

About thirty miles south of Paris we were directed to stay in a big house which stood in its own grounds with a river flowing through, and on which it was possible to take a punt. We had a good rest there, and were able to write letters, do our washing, and generally laze around. The allies captured Paris on the 24/25 August 1944, and when this was announced, we were able to proceed on our journey.

When we got to Paris we were given an empty house, previously occupied by the Germans to live in, and once settled in, our captain made arrangements for us to go to the Folies Bergere in celebration.

When we got to the hall we had to stand right at the back, and the stage seemed a long way away. There were no opera glasses available for hire, as they had all been commandeered for the war effort.

After a couple of days we headed westwards to a channel port, crossed over, then travelled up to London, to get a train for Dundonald camp.

The first train that we had got on to, after crossing the channel was full of school kids going to school, and it was wonderful to listen to them talking away to one another it English. We had been overseas for about two years.

(My father was not a racist, but he was born in 1922 and expressed himself as a man of his time. The "French Native troops" he refers to were French colonial troops from Africa. RM)