The following lines are written as a result of a question asked by my eldest Grandson, “What did you do in the Army, Grandad?” My first answer was, “As little as possible!” However, I thought I would dredge up what memories I could over some 60 years ago. I found that some things sprang readily to mind whilst others were buried deep, perhaps deliberately; and were very loathe to surface. So, the following is a recollection of some 5 years of my life, shall we say spasm of

“What Grandad did in the Army.”

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The year is 2004. Earlier this year there were celebrations of the landings in France some 60 years ago; and the invasion of Europe had begun. They were a year late. Italy was invaded in June 1943. I was there and under the impression that Italy was part of Europe!

However, to explain my presence there. I registered in November 1940 when I was 20 years of age, as I was required to do. But as I was a carpenter and working on MOD work, my call-up was deferred for some time. A large number of troops were billeted in my home town of Billericay and we were kept very busy fitting out cook-houses, etc., attached to various halls that were commandeered by the Army. The work in Billericay lasted until September 1941 when I was sent up to Brandon in Suffolk to work on an Army camp, never dreaming that I would come to live here many years later.

This lasted until March 1942, when I was called up and started life in the Royal Artillery, Heavy AA. I was drafted to Towyn, a town in Cardigan Bay on the coast of Wales. We were billeted in Nissan huts which were quite warm and comfortable. Our parade ground was the promenade which could be quite windy and large pieces of foam often blowing off the sea and getting wrapped round our necks. However, our training went ahead a pace and in a week or two, we had mastered all manner of drills and were introduced to the HAA guns and various Command Post instruments. I was fortunate and put on the height finder in the Command Post. After a large amount of time on “dry” runs we were thought good enough to fire “live” rounds. We marched the couple of miles to Tonfanau where we were billeted in wooden huts, quite an advance on Nissan huts! Then we began our live firing practice. This consisted of firing at a sleeve towed some long way behind a small plane. It was a good thing that we were beginners as on the odd occasion, the Command Post instruments were laid on the plane, not the sleeve, much to the pilots wrath! The planes survived so after a month, they sent us on leave to Cleethorps, glad to see the back of us! On return from leave we were posted to various AA batteries. I, with several others, was posted to the 336 Heavy AA battery which was then stationed in Rochford in Essex. As I lived in Billericay some 18 miles away, home-from-home, you might think. Not so, I may as well been back in Wales. I think all I got was a pass for a few hours, not even a 24 hour pass.

After Rochford we travelled to various sites, firing a few rounds off at the odd German plane but not shooting any down, the raids having eased off by then. We then went on mobile 3.7 AA gun training which took us to Blandford and other camps on Salisbury Plain. We dragged those guns behind gun-towing vehicles all over the nation finally landing up at Aberporth, again in Wales. This was a firing range but we arrived in the middle of winter 1942 and the parade ground was covered in an inch or more of ice. This was the only time I ever remember a parade being cancelled. Even the Army could not alter the weather! However, the weather improved and we fired off a deal of shells at some wrecks out at sea. The guns were towed then to other sites travelling North all the time until we landed at Dunfermline not far from Edinburgh. Sometime after the Aberporth trip and arrival in Scotland we were given embarkation leave, which made us wonder what was in the offing. We were shown how to water-proof the lorry engines and that got us guessing all the more as to the likely destination. As it turned out we were all wrong, our lorries and guns were all driven off, after water-proofing, I cannot remember where, but we were able to make a few trips to Edinburgh and we found that Dunfermline was a very interesting place.

Came the day to leave our tents and board the train for unknown destinations. I can remember quite a number of people saw us off to the railway station so we must have made some good impression on the Dunfermline people. I remember we boarded the train with a little foreboding but lifted our spirits as the train got going. We arrived at Liverpool later that day and stepped off right on the quayside and there was our transport, “The Ormand”, a large passenger liner converted into a troop ship. No hanging about, straight off the train and aboard the ship. We sailed the next day and joined a large convoy at Greenock and from there we said goodbye to our green and pleasant land.

We sailed West for a day or more. The weather was quite good so the sea was very calm. We were on 'F' deck but were allowed on the rear deck where we did plane spotting. No enemy plane approached so we sailed on with no trouble. Lifeboat drill was called every day; and many other things were organised to prevent us becoming lethargic. We turned South and had the odd submarine scare when depth charges were dropped from one of the destroyers on the edge of the convoy. Finally the convoy turned East and sailed through the Straits of Gibraltar early one morning. This was the first land we had seen and was a welcome sight. We continued sailing until we reached Malta. Here the convoy dropped anchor some distance off the coast. We were called on parade very early next morning dressed in our tropical kit, which had been issued a few days earlier. As our guns were on another convoy, we were to land as infantry. We now realised why we had done infantry training in between times after starting mobile gun training, including some Commando instruction. The convoy sailed off immediately and seemed to drop anchor off the South coast of Sicily in no time. We had hardly stopped and all the AA gunners had been stood-down when half-a-dozen German planes appeared and scattered a number of bombs among us. I think a few hits were made, but “The Ormand” escaped. We were called on parade ready dressed to disembark. Have you ever climbed over the rail of a liner and the climbed down scrambling nets with full kit, rifle, bayonet and other necessary bits of kit? I can tell you it is not easy. In fact it is bl[oody] difficult! The first that hits you is the height of the liner. It looks a mile high, once you're hanging on the net and after untangling your rifle and other things you did not know you had, you are very thankful to drop safely into the landing craft. Well, we had arrived safely, but what awaited us on the land?

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We landed safely on the beach without any more visits from the enemy planes; and very quickly disembarked and made our way off the beach. After crossing a very dusty road we found we were in an olive grove. The RSM assembled us to await the rest of the Battery who soon joined us. We were then dispersed by troops and each given a map reference to a farm or village to make for. The first troops that had landed that morning had advanced over two miles and not met much opposition. Our destination was a farmhouse nearly a mile ahead. We advanced steadily, eyes and ears wide open, through the olive groves and orange plantations, almost like a training exercise, until we heard gunfire not too far ahead. This stopped us in our tracks and a sergeant took a couple of fellows with him to find out what was ahead. It turned out to be some soldiers ahead had trigger-happy fingers. We found the farmhouse still occupied by the farmer and his family. They were quite happy to see us and told us that the Italians had gone some hours ago. We settled ourselves in one of his barns and ate our rations. This advance continue for the next couple of days when we were told that our guns had arrived. They had been landed at Lentini, a small town on the coast not far from where we had landed. Arrangements were made to collect them, we were glad to get them as it made us feel complete again! We set up a gun site not far from Lentini as troops and equipment were still being landed, but there was little to fire at.

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It was not long before our troops got as far as Catania, a fairly large town on the East coast in the shadow of Mount Etna, an active volcano with smoke always puffing from the summit. We moved up and set up a site in protection of a fighter air-base South of Catania. We had several actions at this site but no planes were shot down. We stayed at this site for some time and were fortunately able to go into Catania several times. It seemed as though business was as usual with most shops open and quite happy to see English troops there. We were treated quite well there, many of the people could speak quite good English, so we had little language problems. Came the day to “cease fire” and move on. This consisted of moving into Italy, across The Straits and then over the mountains to the East coast. This was a hair-raising trip with some near accidents on the steep, mountainous roads. On the way we set up guns several times and fired at various derelict buildings way across the valleys. We were given map references of these buildings so just hoped we fired at the right ones! Eventually we landed up at Bari, a large port on the East coast. We set up our site not far from the large football stadium and as it became to look as though it was a long stay, we made ourselves at home there. This at times was a busy site with raids on the port, sometimes with low flying aircraft. On one raid, our guns were obliged to open fire.

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We were disbanded and all moved a couple of miles up the road to a large site, really a transit camp, I suppose. We stayed there a week or more and then moved into various infantry training camps where we learned again all about Bren guns, hand grenades, mines, etc. All this we had done before we had left England. We finished up at a guards camp to join the 1^st Buffs. It turned out that the Buffs were the 3^rd Battalion of the Guards Regiment. This was an eye-opener for us and we expected harsh discipline. This turned out not to be, the RSM being a very good man, taking as much interest in us and our welfare as he did with his own Guards. We learned the “do's & dont's” of patrols and various night-time activities which we had not needed in the Artillery; and finally joined up with the Buffs on the 16^th September 1944. They were billeted in a small village some miles North of Bari, not far from the coast. The RSM allocated us to the Companies. I landed up in B Company with a few of my old Artillery mates.

After a couple of days we moved off and soon found that the infantry was a different kettle of fish to the HAA. Our first objective was a large house standing way back off the road and supposedly empty. We approached it from the rear whilst others covered the front. We were about a hundred yards from the house when we found it wasn't empty by any means. Several machine guns opened up on us and we scattered trying to find cover behind the largest blade of grass. We were pinned down and couldn't do much about it. One fellow a few yards in front of me had a small trenching tool sticking out of his pack on his back and every now and then the German bullets would hit this tool with a ringing sound, just like a bell. I thought of the first thing you were told to do when you came under fire, “Down, Crawl, Observe, Fire”. All very well. We were “down” all right, flatter than a snake, but where do you crawl to on open ground? As for “observe”, who the hell was stupid enough to lift your head up in that volley of fire? An armoured vehicle came and got us out of trouble and luckily, none of us were hit. We entered the house a few minutes later and did find it empty, the Germans had left and somehow avoided our troops covering the front. They had their escape route planned all right! What a baptism of fire! The fellow carrying the trench tool was told to put it in the belt like everyone else, or change its tune!

The house must have belonged to a very wealthy Italian as the furniture was obviously excellent quality and expensive. The Germans had touched nothing and it was more than we dare do to pocket anything. We had several skirmishes like this one but before showing too much of ourselves, we gave the places a do over with Bren guns, hopefully to flush any enemy that may be in there.

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As we went farther North, still within a mile or two of the East coast, we found that the Germans had made some veritable, strong positions of some of the large farm houses. We advanced through orange and lemon groves. The vineyards were the worst places to cross, getting tangled up in the wire holding up the vines. We went out on night patrols to find out what we could of the German strength and on one occasion we were returning from a patrol, I think about seven of us, when the leader gave a low hiss. We hit the ground and lay still. Within seconds, a German patrol passed about thirty yards from us. The ground was a bit higher where they were, so we could see them clearly against the sky. We were not a fighting patrol so kept quiet until they passed; and then went on our way.

Some places we took still had the civilians still occupying the place, mostly in shelters under the ground. It took a little time to convince the people that we were English, not Germans before they would come out. There were always several children with adults appear and all were very wary at first until they were sure we were English. We were generally greeted with hand-shakes and smiles. These were places we didn't want to stay at very long as the Germans had the range for mortar fire and soon began to drop several mortar bombs with deadly accuracy. So far our casualties had been very light. One Sergeant had been killed by a one-in-a-hundred occurrence. It was at night and he heard a Bren gun firing a little way ahead of him; thinking it was one of our own men, went to see where he was. Unfortunately, it was a German firing a captured Bren and fired at the Sergeant as he approached.

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We carried on advancing slowly in much the same manner as the weather began to turn colder and Autumn came. We came out of the line for a few days rest in late October and returned to the same area to relieve another company. By December it had turned very cold and nothing much happened. The Germans were busy building their defences across Northern Italy. We had been lucky to have operated on the East coast and not been engaged at Monte Casino or at either of the landings on the West coast. There were a lot of casualties at all three of theses engagements. Christmas saw us back at a Guards camp, under canvas but better than being out in the snow. January saw us back in the line but in a small village where we could get shelter in the empty cottages. The Germans were not far away so a good lookout was essential at all times. A few mortars were sent over at times, but I think that was just to let us know they were still there.

March saw us on the move again. This time we seemed to cross a lot of small rivers, mostly by improvised rafts which to say the least, were unsteady; and a ducking was not unknown! Not a pleasant thing to happen. Some of the buildings had to be attacked at night, they were thought to be too well fortified for a daylight attack. This meant an approach as silently as possible and, if possible dropping into a ditch close to the building. With luck, this information would have been found out by a patrol the night before. Several times we were in some form of cover, maybe a ditch or even a fold in the land; and were close enough to hear the Germans talking! My greatest fear at these times was a hand-grenade being lobbed over by the Germans. We lost a few men on these attacks, mostly wounded; and we took several prisoners. Sometimes, after taking one of these places we came under fairly heavy attack by mortar bombs. The Germans were very accurate with these, so it was as well to get a few hundred yards off the area if at all possible. As the Germans were retreating, we didn't fear any counter-attack on these places.

At the beginning of April we were approaching the rivers of Northern Italy where the Germans had made their strong defence line. Early one morning we were taken by lorry to a farmhouse on the Southern shore of Lake Comacchio, a lake on the East coast and which had been caused to flood a large area of surrounding land by the Germans. Unusually, three Companies were assembled together and, again unusually, we paraded and the Padre held a church service. The one hymn we sang was, “For Those In Peril On The Sea.” We thought it a strange hymn to sing, where on Earth were we sailing to from here?

We found out when we were told that we were going to cross the flooded area in tank-like vehicles called “Fantails”. These were tracked vehicles that were supposed to be able to travel over land and water. The objective was a river crossing. Well, we boarded these Fantails and A & C Companies set off. B Company set off a little later, being in reserve as it were. We had covered some distance and to our surprise this Fantail went quite well, when we heard very heavy gunfire ahead of us. We stopped at the rear of a building for shelter and I can remember that we stopped under a tree. This was a haven for millions of flies and we were glad when we were recalled to our start line! We learned that quite heavy casualties had been sustained by A & C Companies. B Company started to advance along the road but came under heavy fire from Germ “Whining Willies”, which caused us to take cover in 'slit-trenches' that had been left by the Germans. Very convenient for us! I dived into one of these trenches along with another fellow. This shelling went on for a long time but most of the shells fell into the marsh. One almost fell in our trench! The piece of wood which some thoughtful German had put over my side of the trench flew to lord knows where and my steel helmet followed it. Something hit me in the back of the neck. I was afraid to put my hand there scared of what I might find, but to my relief I found a soggy lump of mud stuck there. I risked a quick look out of the trench and saw my helmet about twenty yards away stuck in the marsh. I risked a quick dash on my stomach and grabbed my hat and returned to the trench. Needless to say I wasn't exactly dry, but at least that was the least of my worries. At last a lull came in the shelling and we heard some people moving up the road. This was a party carrying a large Red Cross flag going to tend to the wounded.

I have not been able to find many books on the Italian Campaign and those that I have have not mentioned this sea-borne attack. Early this year I was browsing in the local library when I picked up a book of the Commandos. I opened it and found a chapter on Italy and on one page a photo of a Commando walking along a road beside Lake Comacchio. In the background was the farmhouse that had been our start point all those years ago. The incidents that the Commandos were in were written by fellows that were there. These fellows had gone across the lake in similar vehicles to ours with the objective of taking a vital bridge. German gunfire had made them take cover before they were near the objective and there was quite a lot of casualties. The fellow writing the incident said they couldn't make out why their reinforcements didn't arrive. The Buffs could have told him.

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After the “sea trip” we carried on up the road beside the Lake Comacchio for a mile or so and found a deserted farmhouse. We sheltered in this for a night and the moved forward the next day. We crossed some small waterways, mostly by raft, most of us getting a ducking one way or another. Not very warm. After a couple of days we crossed the main river this time by a “Duck” much better and quicker by raft. They were defending their strong positions so we found ourselves diving for cover from sporadic gunfire. We took several more farmhouses, some deserted, when we began to take German prisoners. At one point we stopped at a very large house where quite a number of troops had gathered. There we obtained quite a good meal. We had hardly eaten when half a dozen of us were detailed to go on a patrol along a river nearby. Why us, we'd only just arrived, what about all these other fellows? We should have known it wasn't prudent to have a little moan. Anyway, off we went with instructions to go as far as the first gap in the embankment. I should have said that this river had a very high embankment all along one side, very much like some of the waterways that are on the Fens in Norfolk. Everything went well until we reached this opening on the German side of the river. We no sooner poked our heads through the opening than a machine gun opened up some distance off. It didn't appear to be firing at us as no bullets came our way. We decided to dig ourselves in and quickly did so as the ground was very soft. Some five minutes later we found out the reason for the machine gun firing. In the distance we heard a loud bang, undoubtedly a large gun firing. Shortly a sound like an express rain came over us and the first shell landed in the embankment. This was no doubt a “big” one. Others soon followed at about one minute intervals, some clearing the embankment and landing well on the other side of the river. Our Corporal with the radio called for orders, saying we were under heavy fire. We had to stick it out for an hour before we were called back. We left in a great hurry, luckily with no injuries. We were about to have a right moan as to why we were made to sit it out for an hour during which time we had learned no more than in the first few minutes of shell-fire, other than the fact that the Germans had the range of that gap very accurate indeed. However, when we got back we found the reason we had to wait, the area had come under air-burst gunfire by German 88mm AA guns and there had been several casualties. Perhaps we had been in the safest place after all!

By this time we were well into April and we were finding more deserted places. We had spent the night in one of these well fortified places and an officer and myself sat looking for any sign of the enemy when I saw something white a long way off. I said to the officer, “Have a look through your binoculars at that white thing”, which by then I was sure was moving towards us. He had a look and with a bit of a gasp said he could see a fellow carrying a white sheet on a pole and behind him were hundreds of Germans. From somewhere I had gained a Bren gun so I squatted behind that and looked very business-like by the time the column came near enough for us to see that a fellow walking with the white flag was a high ranking German officer. Our officer said to me, “What the hell are we supposed to do with this lot?” All I could think of was to radio back to our Headquarters for some officers specially for taking over prisoners of war. The German officer leading his troops spoke perfect English and gave us his name, rank number also the Regiment with him and he was surrendering the whole Regiment after he had made sure that we were English. Neither I nor my officer had any idea if the German spoke the correct words of surrender and we were very glad when the Headquarters officers arrived and quickly and took command.

The Germans were now coming over to us quite quickly and we advanced easily. We had arrived in a village some miles South of Trieste and were sitting on a pavement eating our midday meal when word came along that the war had ended. It was hard to believe and I think the feeling was one of relief, so much so that there was no rejoicing.

The war was not over in Burma against the Japanese and our next thoughts were would we be sent there?

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A few days later I had to go sick for the first time in my army career. I had not felt quite right and had not had much appetite for several days. The MO told me I had jaundice and sent me to a small hospital about five miles back. After confirming I had jaundice, the MO there consigned me to bed. Wonderful. The most comfortable bed I had been in for what seemed like months. I had arrived about midday and an orderly brought round the “tiffin” about an hour later; and to my surprise and guilt, I ate the whole lot. I was discharged five days later fit and well and given my slip for a transit camp. I had no intention of going there with the possibility of being sent to any Army regiment, so I turned up the road in the direction in which I had come. A five mile walk in the May sunshine was just right for me. I had walked about a mile when a lorry came along and stopped. Of all the luck this was a Buffs Headquarters truck and I was safely delivered to the Headquarters. It was no time before I was back with B Company. They had moved to a large village just a few miles from Trieste. This place had an earth tunnel encircling it with four large gates in it. At least, there were gates there originally, now just openings remained at the four points of the compass. The locals said it had been reinforced during the Napoleonic wars. There was a massive area in the centre large enough for the whole battalion to parade. However, our war work was not yet finished.

A lot of Yugoslavs had fought for Germany and groups of these were holed up in the wooded hills behind Trieste. We got the job of rounding these people up. I went out with a dozen others and found a group in a small camp not far into the hills. These people were armed to the teeth, all makes of hand grenade on their belts, a rifle and some form of automatic slung across their back; and that was just the women! At the first encounter the men were inclined to show a little aggression but when they realised we were there to take them in and not to harm them, they came quietly. I am sure we were more scared than they were. After a few outings like this we thought we would get cunning, so we tried to get above them and if there were more than us we came back and said they must have moved on as we couldn't see them. Other troops soon set up camp in these hills so we were relieved of this job.

The days went by and from somewhere a set of cricket gear appeared. This was most welcome and soon someone was playing cricket every afternoon. This eventually developed into Company games and we found that there were some quite good players amongst us. I must say that I enjoyed these games very much.

We moved into Trieste right round to a large establishment on the Yugoslav border. Our job was to just watch out for any trouble at the border, but nothing really happened. The boundary on the road was a pole on trestles across the road and every other night the Yugoslavs shifted this pole about one hundred yards along towards us. Every other morning we moved it back!

We had quite a few days free and went down to Venice on a couple of trips and there was plenty to see in Trieste. This was our life until I came home on leave. This leave should have been in the Summer but was put back twice, the second time because of bad weather in the English Channel. I got as far as Milan once and was held up there for several days, but I finally made it and married the girl who became “Grandma”. Unfortunately, my leave having been put back so much I had to return on Boxing Day, of all days.

On my return to my unit in Trieste I was greeted with, “Don't unpack, we are off to Greece tomorrow!” We travelled the whole length of Italy by lorry to Taranto, a port on the 'heel' of Italy. From there we sailed to Salonica in NE Greece. We went to a large barracks some miles North, almost to the border of the next country. This could have been any one of The Balkans, I am not familiar with them. At this time I had become a Corporal and a fairly new officer put me in for Sargent which I duly and paid at that. I also applied to go on various course at the Royal Engineers depot, mainly woodwork and gained a little extra money. We managed a few trips into Salonica and later in the year, moved into a barracks right near to Salonica.

Our cricket matches went ahead during that Summer when I played for the Battalion team. We had some good matches and found that there were several County players in other Battalions. This was an experience not to be missed. The Colonel even put on my report, “He is a good cricketer.” Can't get much better than that!

I was eventually demobbed in October 1946 and returned home to spend one night in Aldershot and then collect my suit, etc. and the final rail pass for home.

Well, I think that's it. A rather potted version I think, but I hope interesting. I must apologise for my mistakes both spelling and grammatical. I find that to fiddle with the word processor at my age is really not on and I must thank Terry, my son, for digging me out of the several holes I found myself in.

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After stirring my brains to resurrect what memories remained after some 60 odd years, I found other bits and pieces surfacing. These are really oddments of no particular interest other than they have stuck and I thought I had better get them down on paper before they vanished for good. I met all sorts of fellows in my Army life and found them all good chaps. They were mostly all conscripts as I was; and some had been in the Army longer than me. The regular soldiers, mostly NCOs, I found were all very reasonable fellows; strict on parades, as they had to be, but otherwise always helpful. At no time did I come across any NCO who acted as we have seen on television, screaming their heads off with insults with their faces an inch or two from the Privates face. I can just see some of the fellows with me standing about 10 seconds of that and the NCO would have been flat on his back, out cold, regardless of the circumstances!

Food. Always reasonably good, even in awkward circumstances; and somehow always got to us. The Salvation Army, always not very far away with their mobile tea wagons. The Red Cross and the WVS, two others always close, ready to give service.

Thoughts readily come to mind of the aftermath of war. The coming home, back to Civvy street, back to freedom of discipline, back to family. I was very fortunate, I had come back as I had gone, no wounds, all still in one piece. I found it strange at first, not having to go on parades, etc. That soon passed and the leave I had that was going all too quickly. I was married and with my son Terry; and the difficulty of finding somewhere to live was top priority. I found a job after a time, but it was well over a year before we found somewhere to live. Some of the demobbed fellows took over some Nissan huts on the now empty camps. I think we were all beginning to think, “Was it all worth it?” I saw the memorial at the church at Billericay and there five fellows names thereon that I had been to school with. I thought of them on November 11 as I watched the Memorial Service in London on television.

I think that there is only one thing that the 'powers that be' ever learn; and that is that they never learn!

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The above is a faithful copy of the original document written in answer to my question posed in the 'Forward'. As my Grandad thought, “I had better get them down on paper before they vanished for good”, so I reproduce his wartime memories here on the internet, a place that will hopefully out-last me!

In memory and honour of Eric Samuel Leeds

2 November 1920 – 23 March 2010