| Index | Recent Threads | Unanswered Threads | Who's Active | Guidelines | Search |
 |
World Community Grid Forums
Category: Community
Forum: Chat Room
Thread: On this Day |
| No member browsing this thread |
|
Thread Status: Locked Total posts in this thread: 716
|
|
| Author |
|
|
Former Member
Cruncher Joined: May 22, 2018 Post Count: 0 Status: Offline |
Friday, 4th August 1944
WW I Opening Day was celebrated with a change of weather. The signs “DUST BRINGS SHELLS” were prominently displayed on every road near the front, but there was no dust - It rained overnight, so we now had mud instead. Once more, as at Hill 112, different formations were attacking each other's objectives, and there was much confusion. We were treating casualties from 43rd, and other, Divisions and independent brigades. |
||
|
|
Former Member
Cruncher Joined: May 22, 2018 Post Count: 0 Status: Offline |
Saturday, 5th August 1944
----------------------------------------Our water bowser seemed to have become stuck in the mud somewhere, so we could now only use the water we had in our Gerry cans, and had to pour this very carefully so as not to waste it. The trick was to hold the can with the pouring lip at the very top corner so that the air entering the container did not disturb the water inside. The previous day’s confusion seemed to have been settled and 43 Div, together with the rest of XII Corps (or was it VIII Corps?) were now on our left, and proceeding eastwards slowly, hampered by the effects of the bombing of Villers Bocage and the slow raising of the artillery barrage. [Edit 1 times, last edit by Former Member at Aug 5, 2008 8:18:30 AM] |
||
|
|
Former Member
Cruncher Joined: May 22, 2018 Post Count: 0 Status: Offline |
Sunday, 6th August 1944
We had reached a place called "Sept Vents", living on American K-rations. The problem was that, like our 24 hour packs, they were dehydrated and needed water and we had a daily ration of one bottle each for all purposes - which mean some of us could not shave, and washing was difficult. However, we had yellowish toilet paper in plenty, as brigade had discovered a good supply in a farmhouse taken over from the Americans. |
||
|
|
Former Member
Cruncher Joined: May 22, 2018 Post Count: 0 Status: Offline |
Monday, 7th August 1944
----------------------------------------Even though we were a long way from home, we still thought of the first Monday in August as August Bank Holiday, and this day's weather was typical Bank Holiday weather, warm and sunny, but not so dusty. Now someone had found a pick, so the C.C.P was dug a lot quicker - even I learnt how to swing it. We had a big, flat field all to ourselves, so there should have been plenty of room, but we could not use the centre of the field. The local people had planted scraps of paper in the middle of it, weighed down with stones, and every scrap marked a mine that they had seen the Germans planting. How they, presumably without experience, had managed to do this would always be a mystery. There was no sign "Achtung Minen" and no coded plan for the German engineers, so they clearly had no intention of counter-attacking and lifting the mines. Tuesday, 7th August 1945 Enola Gay had dropped the first atom bomb and we were still in Bruges. The cook was going mad, waving a Flemish newspaper at me, and shouting, “Does this mean what I think it does”? I, mouth agape, read it twice, to make sure, and then went wild too. Soon the whole barracks was cheering and out of control. Almost immediately, they reinstated the church bells and a squaddy took charge of the carillon. Blanket counting ceased and every spare man got a day off to go to Blankenburg or wherever. When we returned, the carillon was playing the latest swing tunes, interspersed with patriotic melodies. There was dancing in the streets, especially the square between the canal and the church. Here itinerant caterers were cooking gauffres (Belgian waffles) and "bollokjes," which were something like falafel balls and very popular. Now it did not matter about being late for supper. We could, and did, spend the evening celebrating with the local population without fear of being declared absent without leave. [Edit 1 times, last edit by Former Member at Aug 7, 2008 7:06:08 AM] |
||
|
|
Former Member
Cruncher Joined: May 22, 2018 Post Count: 0 Status: Offline |
Tuesday, 8th August 1944
Now I started studying the map of the district. I had practiced military map reading as a tank trooper and used my knowledge on the other front where it was difficult to fold the maps correctly. There was a saying "All important battles take place at the junction of four maps" and this was true of Hills 112 and 113. Now it was much easier and I could spread one map across the tailboard and show the others the situation. We could not get back to our old front without wasting time or disrupting local manoeuvres until our infantry had captured a certain lateral route. As Captain Kilpack hinted previously, it was a matter of counter marching. Once that road was in our hands Normandy was ours and we could advance as fast as the Americans could. It would be a few more weeks before that situation arose, as the Falaise Gap could not close while the Germans in it were fighting for their lives. Meanwhile we carried on with our slow advance, with no relief and no rest area. The Germans seem to be using a weapon unfamiliar to us, but something like a Schmeiser. We identified it by its rattling sound, which was now becoming very commonplace. It was called a Spandau submachine pistol. Wednesday, 8th August 1945 Suddenly the 53rd RHU was a happy camp. It was neither anything like the boring, depressing, 53 RHU in Surrey, where I waited for my transfer, nor something like the unhappy, convalescent, 53 RHU in Normandy. This was a 53 RHU of men from whose shoulders a heavy burden had been lifted. Now it was like it must have been, in reverse, 31 years before, when men happily congregated with strangers and pals alike, happily looking forward to a war which should be over by Christmas, except we presumed that our war was already over. |
||
|
|
Former Member
Cruncher Joined: May 22, 2018 Post Count: 0 Status: Offline |
Well I love you both Bundi and Haldav, the world wouldn't be the same without either of you
   |
||
|
|
Former Member
Cruncher Joined: May 22, 2018 Post Count: 0 Status: Offline |
Hope you are not disappointed - there is only one of me - except during schizo attacks.
|
||
|
|
Former Member
Cruncher Joined: May 22, 2018 Post Count: 0 Status: Offline |
Wednesday, 9th August 1944
We moved on again, past a cross roads on that lateral route. About 100 yards further on a footpath crosses the road. Out of this came the tanks of the 11th Armoured Div, and we took the orchard they had just vacated. This was behind a house called “La Martiniere”. The young ladies of the house handed us flowers from their garden, while the local men folk prepared to barbeque a whole cow. As casualties had not yet started coming in, the flying squad took the opportunity of carrying on a mile or so further down the road where there was an MBU (mobile bath unit). The lads there showed us their Spandau. This was supposed to have had extra barrels to prevent overheating, but they had only managed to “liberate” one. On our return, Jackson and I went with another farmer to his garden, where he had buried a German soldier, and handed us the dead man’s property – one pay book, one metal helmet, one pair of I.D.s and (of all things) a Spandau barrel. We tied one I.D. to the chinstrap of his helmet, which we hung on the stake at his head. The rest we took back with us, the I.D. and book for the War Graves Commission and the barrel for the M.B.U. Farrier was from Jersey and now called himself “Anglo-Norman”; this evening, he and I were invited to join the ladies and their father in the cellar of the house to open a bottle of champers which had been hidden from the Germans. Afterwards, I pocketed the cork, as the cork of my water bottle was not too reliable. I prepared to leave, saying, “Je regret, il faut partire”. One of the young ladies accompanied me to the footpath, handing me a bottle of their own Calvados, asking, “Tu te couches avec un bel ami?” I replied, “Malheureusement, non” and made my way to the C.C.P., thinking, ‘Did she say “un bel ami” or “une belle amie ?”’ No matter whichever – I was on night duty that night. Thursday, 9th August 1945 This day, almost exactly, I and some others moved to Melle, a small village on the Brusselsche Steenweg outside Ghent to join 225 Field Ambulance in 3rd (British) Division. This was a Div. we had not heard mentioned before, but it was the spearhead div. in the landing of XXX Corps in Normandy and suffered heavy casualties, especially in operation Charnwood. Apparently it only got as far as Belgium because General George "Blood and guts" Patton had purloined most of the logistics. No doubt, they were also under strength because of the discharge of group 1. Nevertheless, the fighting seemed to be over, so why did we need reinforcements? The answer was not long in coming, but meanwhile we could only make apprehensive guesses. We arrived at Melle to find most of the villagers dancing in the streets. As soon as we could get our kit off, we happily joined them. |
||
|
|
Former Member
Cruncher Joined: May 22, 2018 Post Count: 0 Status: Offline |
Thursday, 10th August 1944
I returned to the slit trench I would have shared with Hall. He had found me an old Mae West, which he had inflated, intending me to use it as a pillow. This was now deflated and a Spandau bullet rested inside it. Rowley remarked, “It’s lucky your head was not on that pillow!” This was a busy day. Among the other, unremembered, ones, two casualties stand out. One was a man who appears to have shot himself in the foot. After treating him, Capt. Kilpack started to make out a self inflicted injury report, then, with a mild expletive, tore it up – the only time I had ever heard Guy Kilpack say anything un-gentlemanly. The Spandaus rattled on all day and H.E. ensued, just as two bearers arrived with a casualty. The bearers lay down the stretcher and ran for cover. Thinking this was rather cavalier treatment, I approach the moaning casualty, who was neither bleeding nor restricting his movements. As I smelt his breath, the man murmured thickly, “They’ve poisoned the cider”. Friday, 10th August 1945 I had a very comfortable billet chez van Anderlecht. Miijnheer said, “Faites comme chez vous,” equivalent to the French, « Faites-vous à la maison, » Soon we were talking to each other in different varieties of French, and understanding each other fairly well. He was an electrical engineer and the local cinema projectionist. He was also the local fire chief and chairman of the district council. What seemed strange at the time was that he had simultaneously been chief of both the resistance movement and the collaborationists. |
||
|
|
Former Member
Cruncher Joined: May 22, 2018 Post Count: 0 Status: Offline |
Friday, 11th August 1944
We packed up for another short move, back to a field near the cross roads. This was a concentration area, and we were waiting for the whole division to arrive so that we could counter-march in convoy along that lateral, as soon as the Engineers could clear it of the obstructions caused by wrecked enemy vehicles and material. Saturday, 11th August 1945 It was time for me to abandon the pleasant and lazy life for at least part of the day, so I went off to the M.I. (medical inspection) room to see if a volunteer was wanted there. The M.O. was pleased to have an orderly with some medical knowledge, at least during sick parade. This left me with rest of the day to get acquainted with the van Anderlechts |
||
|
|
|