Saturday, 8th July 1944

Two of us go for another walk to that farmhouse. There is no exchange of sardines for eggs this time, Mme. Penard giving us a shrug of the shoulders, and saying, “Les poulets ont leur derrieres cousues”

An English newspaper has arrived when we return. There is a photograph in it of a number of soldiers, wearing Tam-o-Shanters, washing their socks in the pond at that farmyard, with the aid of “Mimi” Frin, the farm hand. This makes another potential addition to a future scrapbook and the paper is also preserved for the “griff” seat.

Sunday, 9th July 1944, or thereabouts

We are all bored stiff. After recceing the district in small groups, nobody has found anything more exciting than the local farm, so the company sergeant organises a P.T. class. When we are all dressed up, er... down to our P.T. kit, we have a visitor - a low flying German fighter plane, and I don't think he was flying low to do some crop spraying.

This thread has not been producing any chat lately, so I am beginning to think that a chat forum is the wrong place for it. With that in mind, I have been copying it here http://strellex.com/forum/viewtopic.php?p=5728#5728 although there has not been any objection to it being in this forum, despite the fact that the forum is becoming rather congested. If I do decide to close this thread, it will still be readable there, but there are limitations on contributions, so if you have any comments, criticisms (polite, please) or queries, please make them here while you can.

Tuesday, 11th July 1944

Once more we have become mobile, and have packed the trucks for maximum comfort on the move, as we have a fair distance to go this day. It is just a matter of going in, doing what needs to be done and getting out again, keeping the heavy enemy tanks away from the Shermans, which are very lightly armoured. When hit, they tend to catch fire and are known to the Desert Rats as “Tommy Cookers”, and to us as “Ronsons”, as they “light first time”..

Friday, 14th July 1944

On this day, Bundy and Hall wake up to find their slit trench flooded by rainwater entering via a mole tunnel that they had not noticed. They quickly rescue their blankets, hang them on the barbed wire to rinse off in the rain, and go for breakfast.

When it stops raining, they wring them out and hang them up again to drip while they are engaged in loading their trucks for the next move. This is today (vive la France!), via Bretteville and St. Mauvieux to the Tilly area, where we are being temporarily transferred to XXX Corps to allow their forward division (third British, we discover, much later) to retire for reorganisation and reinforcement, following losses on and since landing on D-day.

We make an overnight camp in a field whose previous occupants have left in a hurry. Some of the trenches are incomplete, while others are not only complete but also covered with things like doors, tabletops and wardrobe backs - obviously taken from a nearby chateau.

This is structurally undamaged but littered with broken and torn French property. Bundy and Roly take away one unhinged cupboard door for their trench, and come back for the bodies of two soldiers, enemies in life, but now comrades. Madame arrives and says "Ah, mon pauvre chateau". We nod in agreement, take away the Reconnaisance Corps officer and inform the ghoul squad about the other body. Soon they are sharing one shallow trench, their I.D. tags hanging on a crude cross until they can be given a more lasting tomb and memorial. . .

Sunday, 16th July 1944

We keep moving on to the next location, several times per day, none of them being any different in general from the others. Casualties are light, as now we are holding the "hinge" between the British and American forces, and the enemy has to fall back, to avoid a trap. Erwin Rommel knows this, but he is injured and Adolph Hitler does not respect his other generals enough to allow them to escape. It is still necessary to keep the enemy armour busy around Mt. Pincon, so who has taken over from us – the Butcher Bears, the Welsh Wizards or the Geordies? There can be little doubt who will take over from 11th Armoured Div., which should be joining us here. The Desert Rats have been building up for weeks and are now up to strength and units of the 7th Armoured Division are due at 21 Army Group concentration areas near St. Gabriel, where we once were.

The only relief from the boring routine occurs when a captured chicken escapes from the K.O.S.B. (King’s Own Scottish Borderers), whose men voice claims for it after Glenn has cooked it, and he consoles them with "our" chicken soup. . .

Tuesday, 18th July 1944

Today is another day of movements, but fewer and longer in view of the comparatively clear roads, which permit the few casualties to move further and faster. To forestall any grumbling, the O.C. tells us that if we read military history we will know about marches and counter-marches. We have to confine our reading, however, to the Penguin Classics, which are small enough and light enough (in weight) for us to carry. They are also quite cheap - still 6d per volume (equivalent to about £1 in today’s decimal currency), although some Penguins are now somewhat dearer. Bundy has just finished "I, Claudius" and has started on "The Penguin Herodotus".

Another magazine, "Soldier", arrives with the rations. According to this, befuddled, tired, German P.O.W's have been asking to see the belt of a 25 pounder. We shrug the story off as morale boosting propaganda, but, years later, discover it to be true. There are also warning stories about the Normandy women. Some of them had contracted V.D. (STD) from the S.S. men and had then, probably with the approval of their neighbours, given it to other Germans. Now they had their hair cut off in public, either as a punishment for them or as a warning to us. For the same reason, some houses are marked “Out of Bounds” in the British zone and “Off Limits” in the American zone.
We are now beginning to fraternise with the civilians. In the landing zone, we hardly ever saw the locals and when we did, they tended to be aloof. The Wermacht, who had orders to be courteous towards them, had occupied this area, and they had responded in kind. Now we were in a zone previously held by the SS Panzer Lehr who had behaved arrogantly. None of these local farm workers ever said "Get off this land, it is the property of the Third Reich" as had happened before. On the contrary, they are now very friendly, treating us like heroes, sometimes even inviting us into their homes and sharing their Calvados with us. Some of them seem to have been, or associated with, the maquisards and know their songs, like "Viens, Mon petit Fridolin" which they try to teach us.