Chapter XI: Army
The fourteenth of August came much too quickly after my call-up at the beginning of the month. Setting off from Llandeilo Station after bidding good-bye to my wife and my two young daughters, I felt rather nervous and anxious as to what would be my fate in the Army. I was the only one on the Station platform who seemed to be on his way to join the Army, and indeed it was not until the train arrived in Church Stretton station that I saw a number of young men disembarking and being met just outside by an Army N.C.O. in uniform.
The bombardier, or he may have been a sergeant, seemed to be a jolly good-humoured soldier, who just told us to form some kind of ranks. We were marched for about three quarters of a mile, in quite a hap-hazard way, to a large mansion, which had been commandeered as the depot for the training unit of the 13th anti-tank Regiment. The benign attitude of the N.C.O. changed suddenly and dramatically on arrival at the depot. He was now the boss, and like all the other N.C.O.s and commissioned officers, he soon showed that every command, however harsh, was to be immediately carried out without any show of displeasure and unwillingness. It turned out that large number of the South Wales recruits were teachers. They were soon made to understand that they were no longer the disciplinarians but were now the disciplined.
We were first of all taken to the Quarter Master’s Stores to be kitted out with Army underwear and Army uniform. We were very roughly measured and a pile of what turned out to be ill-fitting clothes was dumped before each one of us. Then we were taken, twenty of us, to what was to be our billet for the first six weeks, an Army Nissan hut. It must be admitted that some fun and humour was shared amongst the raw recruits when they put on the Army uniform. Hardly anyone looked the picture of a smart soldier in a well-fitting uniform. But it was not long before some of them managed to give themselves the smart appearance of a well-groomed soldier.
Very little time was given for us to perform this transformation, and so it was throughout most of the six weeks. Everything was done ‘at the double’. So we were ordered outside and this time made to form proper ranks and then to march in step back to the village to a building, an old mill or malt-house near the railway station, where we were to eat our meals. One would expect that homesickness and anxiety about what was in store for us would put us off army food. But the hectic activity not only gave us no time for feelings of homesickness but also in no way diminished our appetite for the food. Indeed I cannot remember that I failed to do justice to the rough but, admittedly, wholesome fare. However I did notice that some of the men would spend quite a lot of money in the N.A.A.F.I. on eatables, especially on the chocolate that was allowed them.
When we returned to our hut, we began to try to fraternise. There were several teachers and members of the professions in the squad who turned out to be amenable company, but about half of the men were labourers from the Birmingham area, rough and foul-mouthed, and some of them even illiterate. It was this kind of experience that helped me to see and to understand how the other half of the world thought and lived, and indeed made me realise that at heart we had a great deal in common. One of these, a bricklayer from the Birmingham area, confided in me that he could neither read nor write, and that he would like me to read the letters he received from his wife and also write his replies.
Some time after, we were told that the mixing of an intake of teachers and labourers was an experiment by the Army authorities that was not repeated as it did not prove a success. It was difficult to understand what was the philosophy behind such an experiment. Was it thought that the presence of teachers would be a kind of leavening influence on the rough element among the labourers? Or maybe the labourers would show how to be immediately obedient to commands from higher authority?
Actually, the labourers proved to be more pliable, as it were. They were more efficient in the various drills, and they were readier to respond to the ’spit and polish’ demands of the N.C.O.s. It was one of these labourers who was the first to be rewarded with a stripe, that is to become a Lance bombardier, the equivalent of a Lance Corporal in the Infantry.
On the first few days we were kept busy with visits to the medical centre for inoculations or so-called jabs, also with various tests and parades. One of the tests was an Intelligence Test. We were set a written test that was in two sections - section one a verbal test, and section two a mechanical test. With my classical training I naturally did well in the verbal test, but I am afraid that my score in the mechanical test must have been abysmally low. This mechanical test had diagrams of every kind of mechanism, mostly intricate diagrams of movements of cogs and wheels whose correct directions had to be traced. It was like tracing your way through a maze!
Our parade ground was an adjoining field, not an ideal surface for marching drills. Later on we were taken down to the village to perform our drills on a hard asphalt surface. The clear sound of heavy Army boots on a hard surface proved to be a big help in keeping our marching in step. Our instructor was the N.C.O. who was in general charge of our squad. It seemed that his main qualification for the job was his loud bawling commands, punctuated with obscene remarks on our seeming ineptitude. One of those with whom I later on struck up a friendship had a complete lack of coordination in the movement of his arms and legs and so became a frequent butt of the N.C.O.’s lashing tongue.
Sometimes a young lieutenant would appear on the scene to keep an eye on our drilling. I remember well one incident in which an over-weaning, self-confident, strutting officer spotted some misdemeanour on the part of one of the soldiers. He ordered the soldier to leave his squad, had a heavy sandbag placed on his arms, and made him run round the field at the double until he dropped completely exhausted. Such inhuman treatment roused in us feelings of anger and disgust. But we dared not show any resentment. It was difficult for teachers, thirty to thirty five years old, to accept with equanimity the inconsiderate commands of young self-assured newly commissioned officers who had come to the Army straight from college.
The spit and polish standards were also difficult to accept, but many of the labourers took a great delight in producing a brilliant shine on their badges and on their boots. The one who was the first to gain a stripe spent hours every evening polishing his badges with Brasso and his boots with black Cherry Blossom polish.
There was an art in producing a brilliant shine on the toecaps of army boots, an art that I neither learned nor indeed attempted to learn. The essentials for this were a liberal daubing of boot polish, several pieces of cloth for succeeding rubbings, a candle and a box of matches. After a layer of polish had been applied and lightly rubbed with one of the cloths, the candle was lit and the flame was lightly applied to the polished toe, then more rubbing followed by another application of the flame, and again more rubbing. This was done every night until the toe-cap shone so brilliantly that you could see your own face in it.
Our evenings, after we had been marched down to the village for our evening meal and then marched back, were usually free. But we were so tired after the incessant drilling of the day that we did not have the energy or the inclination to walk again down to the village for any entertainment that was laid on for the troops by various voluntary organisations.
Being in such close contact with the other members of the squad promoted a strong feeling of comradeship even though our interests and background upbringing differed so much. Naturally, I was attracted to those who had come from an environment similar to mine so a close friendship was set up with two other teachers, Christopher Fry from the Pontardulais and Gowerton area, and Nobby Clark from Pontypool. Christopher Fry, a jovial fellow with a strong sense of humour, was a Primary school teacher, while Nobby (I can never recollect his real Christian name) Clark was a serious-minded History teacher in Pontypool Grammar School. After the first three or four weeks of training we three would almost regularly make our way down to the village in the evenings when we would spend most of the time in the NAAFI drinking cups of tea, exchanging experiences and playing an occasional game of housey-housey (that is, in non-Army parlance, Bingo or Lotto).
The continual marching and drilling in heavy stiff-leather army boots did no good to my odd-looking bifurcated big toe. The tip of the toe, by rubbing against the hard toe-cap, became very painful. So I decided to report this to the M.O. But I feel sure that he thought I was malingering, and so I had to soldier on. However a few weeks later I was ordered to report at Shrewsbury Military Hospital and to take my pyjamas with me.
Following the usual hospital practice the nurse in charge made me change into pyjamas and lie in bed even though I was perfectly fit. The next morning a surgical specialist came to see me, and stated that my big toe had the makings of two toes, and it was then that I first heard the use of the term ‘bifurcated’. He said that the only solution to my trouble was to remove one of the bones in my toe. However he had to have my permission to perform that operation. I refused as I thought that I had been able to wear civilian shoes without undue pain and I did not feel that I should undergo an operation doubtful of success just to make me a more efficient soldier. As it turned out and as I shall reveal later this proved a vital decision, a decision that really kept me alive to tell the tale.
When the six weeks of initial training ended, we were transferred to Nissan huts near the village railway station where life became much more tolerable. No longer did we have to march quite a long way to our meals, no longer did we have to undergo the ordeal of unceasing marching and drilling and the seemingly harsh treatment of the N.C.O.s, no longer were we too tired at the end of the day to enjoy the relaxation and entertainment of the evenings. Indeed, the whole atmosphere of the camp was more relaxed.
By this time too we were entitled to a forty-eight hours leave, which had to be taken from six o’clock on Friday night to reveille on Monday morning. But it was a real blow to me when I realised that in no way could I return to camp before reveille or even on the Sunday. Trains on the Llandeilo-Shrewsbury line did not run on Sundays. What could I do? The only course open to me was to try to persuade Carrie to come to Church Stretton on Friday evening so that we could enjoy the weekend together. I realised that this was rather a tall order for her, but, fair play, she agreed. So she left Una and Nest in the care of her sister Kate, and so we were able to be together for three nights and two days in a small guest house.
On being transferred to the camp in the village I was made a Driver i/c. I was no longer Gunner Williams 1122995 but Driver i/c Williams. For quite a time I was under the impression that i/c meant ‘in charge’, that is in charge of a vehicle. But it transpired that i/c meant ‘internal combustion’, so it was a term adopted by the Royal Artillery to differentiate between motor vehicle drivers and the drivers of horse-drawn vehicles.
By becoming a driver I avoided a lot of foot-slogging with the result that my foot-trouble was very much eased. As most of the drivers had experience of driving cars in ‘civvy street’, they had very little need of instruction. All that was required was a familiarising with fifteen hundredweight trucks that were used for towing the comparatively small two-pounder anti-tank guns. Later on in the War it was realised that such a small gun was wholly ineffective against modern tanks, and so seventeen pounder anti-tank guns became the standard guns used by Anti-tank Regiments.
Driving the fifteen hundredweight trucks around the countryside was no unpleasant job. Not only were we able to enjoy the beautiful scenery of the valleys and mountains surrounding Church Stretton, but we were able to enjoy the company of drivers who came from a very similar social background. I suppose I can claim, without undue snobbishness, that most of us were car-owning lower middle class. My constant companion on the morning drives was Christopher Fry, a Welsh-speaking Welshman with interests similar to mine. The N.C.O.s in charge of us knew the routes where we could stop for a tea or coffee break in a café or pub. These routes passed through beautiful valleys like Carding Mill and the valley to Craven Arms or to All Stretton, and over hills like Wenlock Edge.
But the driving was not always such a pleasure. I can remember two experiences which were far from being pleasant, one especially so. This time we had to drive the trucks, towing anti-tank guns, through Carding Mill Valley up the steep slopes of the Long Mynd. On the mountain roads there were gates at regular intervals and several of these were on quite steep slopes.
At the first gate the Commanding Officer of the Regiment watched us opening the gate, starting the truck and moving through, then dismounting to close that gate before moving on. The first test was to start off on the steep slope without letting the towed anti-tank gun pull the truck back even one inch, and then the second test was keeping a distance of sixty yards between each truck in the convoy. With varying times being taken by the drivers in opening and shutting the gates, by the time we reached our destination at the top of the mountain there was no semblance of an orderly convoy, the distances between the trucks varying from a few yards to a hundred yards. We were ordered out of our trucks by the C.O. and given such a telling-off, in such lurid language, as I had never heard before. But even worse than this was our being made to run around a field several times. Such treatment was difficult for thirty years old professional people, who had been used to giving orders themselves, to tolerate. We were really boiling with anger and frustration. But what could we do?
The other not so pleasant experience was the final test of our driving. To make the test as difficult as possible I was made to drive a big Army lorry with the Lieutenant Colonel sitting by my side. I had not driven this bigger vehicle before and so was not used to the behaviour of its clutch. It had, of course, no synchronised gears and the test was to double declutch without any grating sound. But I don’t think I made one gear change that was noiseless. However, I must have satisfied the Colonel as I was after that made a Driver Instructor.
I must add another unpleasant driving experience during our training. Driving at night along main roads such as the one from Church Stretton to Craven Arms was a nightmarish experience. The lights we were allowed in our headlamps were really useless. In the black-out there was just a pin-point of light showing in the blacked-out headlamps; just enough, I suppose, to give a warning to approaching vehicles. Fortunately, in those days of black-out there was very little traffic of lorries and cars. The run from Church Stretton to Craven Arms is normally along a road, parallel with a river, with overhanging trees on either side. But these trees proved a real hazard because driving along certain stretches was like driving through the complete darkness of a railway tunnel.
While on the subject of the hazards of driving I must relate the story of an accident which could have had very serious consequences. One of my jobs as an instructor was to teach driving from scratch to a group of Army Cadet Officers, who had joined straight from School or College. It’s claimed today that learners of this age are much more likely to pass the driving test at the first attempt than those who start learning at a later age. This may be true, but, in my experience it was no easy task to curb the recklessness and over-confidence of these youngsters.
One such youngster nearly caused a very serious accident. He insisted on driving at a speed that was not safe, with the result that after turning a corner the truck went straight for the hedge and by braking hard stopped on top of the hedge with the front wheels dangling in open space. Fortunately, no damage was done, and so we decided that the wisest course was to keep mum, and not to report the incident to higher authority.
This was the period when the World War hotted up. In April and May of 1941, London and other major cities were bombed mercilessly by the Luftwaffe. Russia entered the war in June 1941. The U.S.A. entered the war in December 1941 after the Japanese bombing of Pearl Harbour, and in the same month the British battleships Prince of Wales and Repulse were sunk in Singapore harbour. So there was increasing danger of the 13th Anti-Tank Regiment becoming involved soon in action against the enemy.
Lacking courage to fight and thinking of the welfare of my family, I tried to go along several avenues to avoid being sent overseas. In the first instance I was foolish enough to think that I was doing a worth-while job for the Army teaching soldiers to drive, and that maybe I would be kept in Church Stretton for the duration of the war. I soon realised that this was not the way the Army thought, so I made attempts to be transferred to other what I thought less dangerous branches of the Army. I even applied to join the Intelligence Corps when I saw a notice in our hut asking for volunteers. I was interviewed by the Commanding Officer who showed that what was being looked for was someone who had a fluent command of foreign languages. My insignificant smattering of German and French was evidently no qualification and so, fortunately, my application was turned down. I say ‘fortunately’ as I learned since that the work of the Intelligence Corps behind enemy lines was one of the most dangerous jobs in the whole war.
It was not all driving and instructing at this period. We were issued with a .303 rifle and were taught to shoot on a small rifle range near the village. Our efforts at the beginning were often off the target even though the range was a mere thirty yards. Another unfamiliar and really difficult part of our training was the stripping and reassembling of a Bren gun. But the part of our training involving map-reading was a discipline that was readily learned by those who had studied Geography at School, although those in our squad, whom I have described as labourers, had much difficulty in pin-pointing the map references given.
The one day in the week when there was very little activity and even a lot of boredom was Sunday. I cannot remember whether we had morning church parades in Church Stretton, but in other stations, later on, there was a Church parade every Sunday morning. On joining the Army every soldier had to state what was his religion, but for the Army there were two categories only, CofE (Church of England) and Methodist. So I had to state that I was Methodist, and indeed life on Sundays was as a result much more tolerable, since I did not have to do a lot of spit and polish on Saturday in readiness for the parade inspection and march to the Church. The few Methodists were allowed to proceed to Church without a parade inspection and without having to march at the orders of an N.C.O.
It was soon realised what was the significance of stating your religion when we were issued with discs that had to be hung around our necks at all times, recording our name and Army number and religion. The significance, of course, was that if you were killed in action you would be easily identified and you would be buried by the Army chaplain of your denomination.
In Church Stretton, Christopher Fry and I decided to attend Church on the Sunday evening instead of attending the local N.A.A.F.I. for sessions of housey-housey. There was, of course, no Welsh chapel. But after two or three attendances we came to the conclusion that there was very little enjoyment for us in an English service in an Anglican Church and also we were given very little encouragement by the stiff-necked and unwelcoming members. Indeed we began to think that soldiers were not welcomed by the rather superior residents of the village. However this was not our experience in the stations to which we were sent later.
I failed to be granted leave over Christmas and so I had to partake of my Christmas dinner in the Army canteen. But it must be admitted that we all enjoyed our dinner, turkey with all the trimmings and plum pudding. However what impressed us more than the dinner itself was the service given us by the officers and N.C.O.s - unexpectedly courteous and jovial. It seems that a custom derived from Roman times was maintained everywhere in the Army, being that for once in the year the role of the slaves and the masters was reversed - the masters served rather than were served.