An Englishman at War

by James Holland

  The difficulties of town fighting for tanks were well illustrated when Lieutenant Reed, after a hazardous foot journey to find a platoon commander, called on the air to Corporal McDonald to tell him that our infantry were in the ‘third house from the left’ but were held up by Germans in the ‘fourth house from the left’, and wanted this ‘fourth house’ knocked down. Could Corporal McDonald from his present position do it with his big gun? Corporal McDonald put his ‘loaf’ out for another ‘shufti’ and replied that he could see the ‘third house’ but the ‘fourth house’ seemed to be round the corner from him. Should he try a shoot? Next followed some cross-talk as to which was the ‘third house’ and where you started to count from anyway, and the dozens of listeners on the regimental wireless net began to feel some concern for the immediate future of our infantry in the ‘third house’.

  There were under our command some special tanks, which threw a huge bomb called a ‘Flying Dustbin’, capable of demolishing several houses at once, and their commander, a most enthusiastic dustbin-hurler, now came on the air to suggest he might try a shoot. A shudder ran through the entire regimental group among listeners far back to the rear echelons, as pained imaginations pictured this enthusiast destroying a score or two of houses on the principle that one would be the ‘fourth house from the left’.

  All this worry was quite unnecessary as Lieutenant Reed had the situation well in hand, the ‘fourth house’ was duly demolished and the grateful infantry emerged smartly from the ‘third house’ to continue their advance.

  In the evening Lieutenant Hyde’s troop had a very dirty hour in the eastern end of the town, and some gallant men were lost in trying to rescue comrades. We were all saddened as we pulled back to a farm to rest and refit.

  Sergeant Sage, one of the Regiment’s oldest and best tank commanders, was killed during the Battle of Cloppenburg.

  From 14 to 18 April the Regiment enjoyed a short and much-needed respite as everybody was short of sleep. Further awards came through: mentioned in despatches, Padre Skinner; Dr Hylda Young, Roger Nelthorpe, Bill Mason the quarter master, Bill Wharton, Keith Douglas, Sergeant Holland, TQMS Montague, AQMS North, and le Croix de Guerre, Terry Leinster and Sergeant Needham.

  Chris Sidgewick was most annoyed – and justifiably – when, after one day of rest he was ordered to take his battery of guns to support the 3rd British Division in a minor attack.

  I paid a visit to the Guards Armoured Brigade to inspect some of its tanks to which it had attached Typhoon rockets as an experiment. I was most agreeably surprised to find that Jimmy Priestley was the squadron leader. I knew him from school, and had seen him so frequently during the pre-war days. He told me that his squadron had used the rockets in anger on several occasions, and that the alarming noise they made when released produced a most demoralizing effect, and that the explosion on impact wrought devastating damage. The problem of aiming had not been overcome at that stage, and as the rockets were fixed on the turret of the tank without any means of elevation or traverse, the only method of aiming was simply to point the tank towards the target, which of course produced no degree of accuracy. Jimmy promised to send me the results of their further experiments.

  The English press now began to speak freely about the war in Europe being almost at an end, which was somewhat irritating in view of the continued casualties the Regiment was suffering.

  Continually we came across slave workers or displaced personnel of all nationalities, who were now wandering aimlessly around, and it became most obvious that their repatriation would present a grave problem.

  On the 18th the next operation commenced with the 9th Brigade of the 3rd British Division, which entailed advancing on Bremen, capturing certain objectives en route, and clearing certain of the southern suburbs. Fighting with the 3rd British Division meant that we had supported every British infantry division in the Second Army, and in addition three American divisions. Chris Sidgewick rejoined the Regiment with his battery of guns in time for the battle. He told me that he had had a trying time in that the battalion commander, to whom he had been attached, insisted on establishing his headquarters in an open field instead of in any one of the numerous farmhouses. Such action he considered thoroughly perverse.

  Until the 21st we fought in an area a few thousand yards south of Bremen, taking several villages, including Karlshoffen.

  Denis Elmore was killed during this fighting when he took the lead through a village, after his leading tank had been damaged. This was his first battle as a troop leader once again, after spending some considerable time as regimental intelligence officer. After joining the Regiment at a very young age, previous to D-Day, he was wounded during the fighting in Normandy, but rejoined after he had recovered. Denis was a delightful boy with rather a reserved nature and a most reliable troop leader. He was our last officer casualty of the war. After having worked as my IO before the arrival of Peter Kent I came to know him so well. His very great friend Stuart Hills – they had joined the Regiment together and previously had been exact contemporaries at Tonbridge – was naturally most distressed about his death. They were inseparable. I could appreciate his feeling so well.

  Stuart Hills was in a state of shock and extreme grief and spent hours wandering about and weeping copiously. He was only just 21 and had managed to keep going through all the fighting and losses of friends and comrades. ‘But this loss was much more difficult to cope with,’ he wrote later, ‘because it was so unexpected and so unfairly near to the end of hostilities.’

  On some occasions the opposition still remained fanatical, but generally we found that the Germans were only too ready to surrender when we came to close quarters. Mines in the roads and booby traps in the houses were most prevalent. Even sea mines were used under the roads, which were generally set with a time fuse, resulting in the mine exploding after several vehicles had passed over. Never shall I forget a ‘Kangaroo’, an armoured troop-carrying vehicle with tracks, travelling in front of my tank, blowing up on a sea mine placed under a bridge and completely disintegrating. Nothing, absolutely nothing, remained of the vehicle and not a trace of a man was ever found. Fortunately, Robin Hood – my tank – was not travelling immediately on the tail of the Kangaroo when the explosion occurred, the blast of which almost knocked me unconscious.

  German gunboats in the Bremen harbour shelled us periodically without inflicting any casualties.

  On 26 April the Regiment attacked the northern sector of Bremen, supporting 130th Brigade of 43rd Division. A Squadron was with the 5th Wilts and B Squadron the 4th Wilts, while the 32nd Lowland Division attacked the southern section of the city. Later C Squadron joined in by passing through A Squadron with the 7th Somersets. Some rather unpleasant street fighting took place, which during the evening became rather confused when A and C Squadrons exchanged a few shots. Both blamed the other, but fortunately no damage was done. The city eventually fell on the 27th and John Talbot actually captured General Becker, the German commander of the Bremen garrison. Ian McKay, B Squadron leader, who was present at the time, took possession of his car, revolver and binoculars, but was extremely irritated when the general broke the glass of his binoculars before handing them over. Ian had a most fortunate escape in Bremen while holding a conference with the infantry company commander, standing at a crossroads. The whole party was fired on by a machine-gun at very close range. Three of the party were killed, including the company commander, but Ian managed to dive into a ditch and crawl to safety.

  The dock area of Bremen was completely demolished, but in the suburbs, where the rich lived, we found some beautiful mansions, a number of which were completely undamaged. In several of the houses we discovered that entire families had committed suicide, including the mayor, his wife and three children. The Russian slave workers in the dock area soon ran amok and killed a considerable number of Germans.

  On the evening of the 28th, after Bremen had fallen, Chris Sidgewick attended a party given by the sergeants of his battery, a
nd somewhat naturally after having been most liberally entertained with food and wine he was quite unable to locate Regimental Headquarters. He therefore drove up to the largest house and demanded shelter from rather an astonished German house-frau [sic], and after having given instructions that he should be woken at 6 o’clock, retired to bed. The next morning, much to his surprise, he found himself in a sumptuous and vast golden double bed, and not having a very clear picture regarding his activities on the previous evening it took him some considerable time to adjust himself to his exotic surroundings.

  On 29 April the Regiment advanced north again with 130th Brigade, passing through Osterholz, Bassen and north-west to Quelhorn and Bucholz, where we once again met opposition. Sergeant Webb’s tank was hit by a bazooka, but fortunately the reinforced plating in the front saved it and prevented any damage to the crew. The shot was fired by a German officer, who was exterminated with the rest of the section by Sergeant Webb.

  In Bucholz, the civilians told us that a German officer had shot nine of his soldiers for wishing to surrender. The civilians had tried to lynch the officer, but he had escaped.

  On the following day we passed through Harpstedt, Tarmstedt, Bedhamm and Hanstedt, which we captured practically without opposition, except for the occasional sniper, slight shelling and numerous mines. A Squadron captured Rhade on the following day, when Sergeant Markham, the senior fitter in the squadron was wounded in the foot during a bout of shelling. Being a chauffeur to Lord Yarborough, he naturally joined the Yeomanry, and when the Regiment was mechanized became a fitter to A Squadron. While I commanded A Squadron, well can I remember his amazing capacity for keeping tanks on the road.

  On 2 May, the Regiment suffered the last casualty of the war, unfortunately fatal. Trooper Carter of Al Echelon directed a Military Policeman to a small hamlet, which he had discovered in the wood, containing a few armed Germans. A sniper killed them both.

  Progress was extremely slow owing to the extensive demolitions and craters in the road and five Bailey bridges were required to span one crater.

  The brigade was the first to liberate the Sandbostel concentration camp, which was situated in the neighbourhood. Our light field ambulance did some magnificent work for the inmates. The brigadier took photographs of this camp, which clearly illustrate that the reports on German horror camps were not exaggerated. The brigade sent off six lorries from each regiment with food and clothing. Most of the inmates appeared to be political prisoners, a large percentage of whom could never survive owing to their pitiable condition. On 4 May the Regiment, led by B Squadron, crossed the Hamme Canal, and Regimental Headquarters moved to Karlshoffen and we established ourselves in a most picturesque old farmhouse, which had been spared damage.

  Soon after arrival our old friend ‘Von Thoma’ – commander of 43rd Division – paid us an unexpected visit and gave me details regarding the next operation, which was to be the capture of Bremerhaven. He told me that once again we should be supporting his division.

  That evening I was summoned to Robin Hood, my tank, where I was told that an important message from Brigade awaited me. Sergeant Pick handed me a piece of paper and said, ‘This message has just come over the air from Brigade Headquarters.’ I noticed that his face was slightly flushed, and that he had difficulty in controlling his excitement.

  The message had been taken down on a piece of scrap paper torn from a German exercise book, which the operator had been using to take down rough messages and the text had not been transferred onto an official message form, which slightly irritated me because I had difficulty in reading the scrawl of my rear-link operator. However, I appreciated the reason after I had grasped the full significance of the message:

  No advance beyond present positions Stop No further harassing fire Stop No further tactical move unless ordered Stop BBC News Flash confirmed Stop German Army on 21 Army Group Front surrenders WEF 08.00 hrs 5 May 1945 Stop Details as to procedure later Stop

  It meant that the war in Europe was over. For the last few weeks we had known that the end must be near, but the receipt of this signal at a time when I was planning my orders for the attack on Bremerhaven, and after having been in action on the previous day, came as a complete surprise. My first reaction was a feeling of profound relief, followed by indescribable exhilaration, and finally a sorrowful longing for those special friends, no longer with us, with whom I wished to share this moment.

  The confirmation of the message arrived an hour later by DR from Brigadier Coad, whose brigade we had been supporting for the last fortnight, and he concluded: ‘The Brigade Commander wishes to say that 130 Brigade has led 43 Division for the last 14 days and considers that we have done our stuff to contribute to this victory.’

  That evening the British Army went mad. Multi-coloured Verey lights and rockets were fired into the air and the sweeping beams from the artificial moonlight illuminated the sky throughout the night.

  I immediately sent a signal to Brigadier Coad requesting his company for a drink. After an hour a ‘very happy’ IO arrived from 130 Brigade Headquarters and informed me that his brigadier was missing but that a search party had been instigated to look under every table, and that with the help of the brigade staff, he had every hope that Daddy Coad would be found provided that they looked under a sufficient number of tables; in the meantime on behalf of his brigadier and himself he would like to drink the health of my regiment and his brigade.

  Thanks to the 51st Highland Division, we had a large stock of champagne in the mess truck, which was immediately brought up by Sergeant Marshall. At Regimental Headquarters we joined in a singsong, which was led by Ward with his accordion and Sergeant Jacques, who conducted the singing. I retired to bed at a comparatively early hour, finding it difficult to fully realize that the war in Europe had been won.

  The following day we remained in the same location and we had a constant stream of visitors from Brigade Headquarters, the Essex Yeomanry and the 12/60th, who all came to celebrate. That evening I dined at the headquarters of the 12/60th. After dinner, having found an ancient golf club and one golf ball, we made up a couple of teams, and played a game of golf. The holes consisted of hitting trees, dropping into a water tower, chipping into a bucket and finally hitting the mess sergeant’s left leg.

  The following day 6 May, Von Thoma held a conference of all COs in the division. As usual he chose the middle of the field in preference to a house, where he pitched his tent which had no side screens, and owing to the rain we all got very wet. He told us first of all the German troops on our immediate front had to be disarmed and the SS had to be segregated from the Wehrmacht, and this would be followed by the gradual demobilization of the German Army, after which proper occupational duties would commence.

  It appeared that the brigade would be split up so that each division would have an armoured regiment, which would mean that the Essex Yeomanry and 12/60th would once again operate as a complete unit and that Chris Sidgewick and Derek Colls would leave the Regiment. Such a thought was most disconcerting and depressing as, having fought so long with us, they had become part of the Regiment.

  The prime minister made a most impressive speech to the nation over the wireless, which we picked up on the tank sets and in which he nominated the 8 May as VE Day. Monty sent his final message, which had to be read out to all ranks. I had so often wondered during the war when I read all his messages, which he invariably issued before or at the end of a major battle, when and where he would issue his final message of the war. At last it had arrived.

  Postscript

  James Holland

  AFTER THE INITIAL celebrations and a victory parade before General Horrocks through Bremenhaven, the Sherwood Rangers were posted to Hannover. Their task there was to guard the many displaced-persons camps, still full of former slave labourers who had been working in the city’s war factories. When the Sherwood Rangers arrived, there had been much looting, killing and raping of Germans by the mostly Polish and Russian DPs. Stanley set
himself up in a comfortable house in a village just outside the city, then organized the Regiment so that each squadron was responsible for two or three camps. ‘Roger Nelthorpe,’ Stanley noted, ‘discovered that as well as three DP camps he had a nudist camp in his area. He asked for instructions, to which I replied that the matter rested entirely with his discretion, but I forbade any Sherwood Ranger to join the camp!’

  In June, the Regiment moved again, this time to Magdeburg. Soon after their arrival, a new bridge over the Elbe was completed, called the Bridge of Friendship; the far side was the Russian zone, so an elaborate ceremony was arranged for the opening. One squadron of the Sherwood Rangers took their place in the British Guard of Honour, which was immaculately turned out and performed its task to the letter. The same could not be said of the Russians. This was the first time Stanley had come into contact with the Soviet allies, and he was appalled. The Russian Guard of Honour was three-quarters of an hour late, and had ‘no march discipline, no uniformity in their arms or uniforms – they were ill-assorted and uneducated humans’. Stanley asked his German interpreter, who had seen action on the Eastern Front, how Germany had lost to ‘this rabble’.

  ‘Because our lines of communication were too long,’ he told Stanley, ‘and because, in spite of our killing thousands until we ran out of ammunition, they still came in hordes.’

  During their time in Magdeburg, Stanley and Basil Ringrose also visited Belsen, to the north of Berlin:

  All the wooden huts, which had originally housed the inmates, mostly political prisoners [he wrote] had been burned down and they were now living in the SS barracks, which had been converted into a hospital, receiving proper medical attention and regular food supplies. We toured the various wards filled with patients riddled with typhus. Bones and skeletons without an ounce of flesh were all that remained of a once normally healthy person. It appeared inconceivable that a human being so wasted away could survive even for a day. At that time 200 were dying a day, and twice a week they buried the dead in communal graves, containing up to 30 bodies. No names appeared over the graves, just a simple wooden cross with such words as ‘Here lie 20 Poles.’ We arrived at the conclusion of one of these mass burials, and never have I witnessed such a pitiful and distressing sight.