My War Service Part 3

Armament Artificer

This appellation is given to one in the army supply service for a highly skilled technician, usually in command of some special activity. It carried at least the rank of Staff-Sergeant with a daily pay , then, of about 14 Shillings per day. On arrival at Bury I was immediately promoted to Sergeant and paid at the new rate. I felt like Creosus and the immediate jump from a simple “Squaddy” to a senior NCO opened a new world for me: at last getting a step on the ladder of success.
Our accommodation was with private families. Thus, I got to know the kind Lancashire folk.
The three months course was very intensive but my school maths. and my tool making experience gave me an advantage in most of what I had to master.

After three months, those who had passed were sent to REME HQ at Arborfield,Bucks. for training in command and field tactics — which inevitably contained forced marches and a horrendous assault course.
At the end I could add the crown above my three stripes. A new life of relative privilege had now opened for me.

“In Command”
I was posted to various REME workshop units. The most interesting was a special workshop at Dover, built into the rocks on the road leading to the castle. It was staffed by only a few men and the tasks were highly secret because it involved the inspection and repair of the fire-control instruments around the harbour and of army units ready for embarkation to the Far East. At that time Dover was being shelled from German Large Calibre Guns, installed near Calais. There were frequent alerts and the town received some damage. Even our fairly secure workshop, while not hit, had its windows blown in from a shell that landed in the road. We continued working during these episodes and no one was injured by the flying glass.
Private study
I mentioned earlier that during my stay in the Isle of Man I had started a correspondence course for achieving a National Certificate in Mechanical Engineering while I as interned on the Isle of Man. Instead, I decided to study for the London University Matriculation examination (“Matric” for short). While I was stationed in Avenmouth near Bristol with the Pioneer Corps I enrolled for a suitable correspondence course with Wolsey Hall, Oxford. I took English, German and Maths. for my subjects.
This worked out quite well and while still in the Pioneer Corps it was viewed sympathetically by my fellow comrades because they understood my aims..
After I had started within a normal barrack life with the “natives” I had expected some teasing for my eagerness to sit in a noisy barrack room as a bookworm but this did not happen; somehow they respected my efforts — and in any case I was an odd foreigner to them at first.
In my army pay book (AB64) two short leaves, granted 1943 and 44, refer to my sitting the exams, which could be taken in 2 halves as a special concession to servicemen, at the Imperial College Hall , ( unfortunately demolished after the war, despite strong protests). I passed all subjects except co-ordinate geometry.
Back to Germany
Our workshop was not involved in the invasion — to my great regret. I, therefore, asked my O.C. whether he could apply for my transfer to a unit of the 2nd Army so that my knowledge of German could be made use of in the forthcoming advance into Germany. He took note of my request and, sure enough, several months after the invasion had taken place I received a posting to a workshop company in 30 Corps of the 2nd Army.
I landed first at Ostend and stayed in a Belgian Army Barracks. We were astonished to see goods in the shops, which were hardly available at home; especially leather goods as well as many knick-knacks like cigarette lighters which had disappeared from our shops. Ice cream was freely available as well as high quality Belgian beer; war-time beer in the UK had become a weak shadow of the good English variety.. It seems that the Germans had not interfered in the local industry that continued to produce those goods for which they still had raw material.
The Belgium barracks had the surprising toilet facilities, later encountered during holidays in France and Greece, of having ‘loos with just a hole in the floor and grab handles on either side.
After about a week we moved to a large Transit Camp in Bruges. As a Senior Rank I was involved in periodic duties as the guard commander — a quite onerous duty because the barracks had as its CO Colonel ----, nick — named Col.”Hi di Hi” He had caused
newspaper headlines because he insisted on a strict saluting routine which demanded the saluting soldier shouting ‘hi di hi’ when bringing his hand up to salute and the officer
replying in equal measure by shouting “Ho di Ho”. I once got into an argument with him because he arrived in the guardroom around curfew time and I had let some soldiers enter the barrack gate which he insisted was after curfew. I respectfully pointed out that the
guardroom clock was at 2 minutes before curfew, implying that his own watch was fast. He gave way with bad grace but the soldiers involved were very thankful for my taking their side.
After some weeks in this beautiful and historic city, fortunately untouched by war, and opera performances by the Brussels opera, those due to join our REME workshop company moved on to the Netherlands, first to Hertogenbosch and then to Eindhoven, where my future workshop company was stationed. I spent some time with a Dutch family, Officers and Senior Ranks being billeted privately. The situation in Holland was quite different from that of Belgium. We heard and saw at first hand the privations which the Dutch had undergone as the war was drawing to the close and there had been widespread looting during the German retreat. We were feted as liberators and everybody tried to be helpful.
After some weeks, by which time the 2nd army had reached the west bank of the lower Rhine, our company was ordered to its first location in Germany. A small advanced party, under my command, set off in a 1500cwt.truck across the German border near Goch and ended up at our given map reference which was a small town called Weeze, and joyfully pronounced by our lads as such. My task was to find suitable locations for our workshop and accommodation for the troops. There was some war damage; much of the population had fled but here and there we saw a white flag from houses. We soon found a suitable site in an abandoned timber yard of a sawmill, which had produced veneers. We cleared the area for our large number of workshop vehicles, being acutely aware that it had been pronounced as ‘not cleared of mines’. The Canadian Armoured Brigade had moved on a few days before. We examined everything very carefully, including a large air raid shelter in the factory yard through which a bomb had penetrated. The large hole in the concrete plinth revealed it to have been filled with household goods by the owner, (instead of using it as a shelter for his staff). Some of our lads subsequently ‘helped ‘to empty it. Looting as such was strictly forbidden but “ finders-keepers” was not..
We requisitioned suitable houses for the troops — that is to say we reserved those the owners had abandoned and the larger, better and undamaged houses . In the house, destined for officers we found an anti-tank grenade thrower with a grenade in the barrel and its safety catch set to ‘scharf’ (i.e. ready to fire). Being apprehensive of booby traps. I carefully lifted it into our 15cwt, truck, stood on the passenger seat, which had a look-out
cover above it and held it outside the vehicle while the driver — very carefully- negotiated the ruts and shell holes to a nearby stream into which we threw it and took cover. Of course, nothing happened. This was my only perceived danger till the end of the war.
The instrument workshop was housed in a large purpose built trailer, equipped for the repair of simple instruments like compasses and binoculars to complex (gun)fire-control instruments and rangefinders.
One day I was asked to collect a fellow artificer from Eindhoven. He had gone on compassionate leave to England before we moved into Germany and for reasons of security had not been informed that our unit had moved and where to. We packed a sewing machine and some bales of cloth into the van which was obtained from the air raid shelter mentioned previously. We knew that his landlady had lost her own machine and other goods to the retreating German troops. She was quite overcome when we turned up with these highly useful items.
Another journey took me to the Dutch frontier town of Winterswijk, which I knew had just been liberated and was near the HQ of CREME (30 Corps command of the REME) and was visited daily by our dispatch rider. I had obtained permission from our CO to try and recover my fathers’ gold pocket watch. This episode is related separately in “The Winterswijk Documents”.
In March 1945,while in Weeze, all officers and senior ranks were called together at a nearby location to be addressed by General Horrocks,C in C, 30 Corps. He was one of the best of modern generals and greatly believed in keeping his troops informed. There were several hundred of us to be addressed in clear language as to what the next major strategic event was to be.
He told us that in a few days the Rhine would be crossed by a major airborne attack that should bring us well on the way to Berlin. On this occasion we were given a demonstration of the latest tanks, including a flame throwers, a frightening sight.
Within a few days — it was in the morning of March , 29th 1945- we were to witness the most awe inspiring sight of hundreds of planes towing gliders , escorted by fighter planes, crossing over us to the other side of the Rhine.
Inevitably, we also witnessed the sad sight of the occasional planes being shot down.
The Germans in the street looked visibly shocked and I heard comments such us “How could we ever have won against this”. A never to be forgotten experience.
Our next move was to Lingen in Oldenburg , carefully crossing the Rhine over a pontoon bridge, to follow the advancing 30 Corps. There, the vehicles were located in a small factory, our accommodation was in tents nearby. The area could be easily patrolled. Most of the population, mainly women and some older men, had remained in their houses and became much more assured that no trouble would arise. It was evident that the population lived with a bad conscience . There was no sign anywhere of the Nazi regime — no picture of Hitler, which many households had; no swastika badges, which were worn by party members and no other obvious reminder of that bandit regime. They knew from the
disappearance of all Jews and reports from the eastern front which had trickled through and their fear of the Gestapo, whose existence had never been kept a secret, that terrible things
had been perpetrated — but they generally did not know precisely what. They had ,of course, seen the ever increasing chicanery , experienced the official hate propaganda and physical attacks against Jews, culminating in the “Kristallnacht”, and after the war had started, in being forced to display a yellow star of David on the outer clothing and further onerous restrictions on using public transport and restricted shopping and rationing. In Weeze, I found a letter in one of the houses we were clearing that reported ”….the Jew X ( here his name) hanged himself yesterday in the ‘Kittchen’ ( a colloquial term for a local prison). The date indicated that he was one of the victims destined for “ resettlement in the East” as the official line was then.
One example of this disappearing trick of Nazi symbols was in our compound. Shortly after our arrival a man asked to see a superior. For obvious reasons I dealt with all German matters. He told me that he had seen his boss bury something in a particular spot. Indeed, there was a freshly disturbed spot in an internal roadway. Removing a thin layer of earth revealed a wooden box and this contained a full-size swastika flag. The factory owner was obviously playing it safe, just in case the expected’Wunderwaffen’ brought a turn-round of the war as well as not ”desecrating” this symbol of the regime and Germany.
Every day, I had to deal with women appealing for help to recover loot. They were able to get as far as the entrance of our compound, where I had many extraordinary encounters . Realising that nothing terrible was to happen to the population, they quickly appealed to me as an ‘English gentleman’ to help them. Although I had little sympathy with them I was concerned to keep the good name of our forces and helped where there was enough identifying evidence of looted goods. (The many trailers and lorries made it relatively easy to carry larger goods like china etc. Fortunately, the no-looting order was strictly enforced and soon all kit was examined of any soldier departing on leave.)
Our next move was to Hannover. It was very long journey for our company with its many complex workshop vehicles and trailers. We had a break for vehicle repairs for a few days somewhere between Lingen and Hanover just before VE day in May1945.
We had an extra day’s rest to celebrate but the means for celebrating were few.
My thoughts were for my parents: Had they survived by some miracle?
In Hanover we occupied the large factory site of the Hanomag car factory. Before the war the firm was known for its somewhat comical 2 seater car with a rear 2-stroke engine. The Driver and passenger sat in a cab which jutted d straight out between the rear engine and front luggage space. A comical looking car but quite popular as a run-around. My mother’s cousin, Dr.Max Rothschild, drove one and it seemed to have got him around to visit his patients in and around Alsfeld.
The factory contained some formidable machinery. One was a huge lathe which still had a smoothbore gun barrel fitted for machining. It was one of those V-weapons which was to be able to shell London direct with a huge shell. The barrel would only be good for a few shells. Later many military inspection teams looked at it, and at a new type of anti-aircraft cannon.
Like all large German towns it had been virtually destroyed in the centre but the railway station was still functioning as well as the smaller industries in the suburbs. The Germans, under appointed officials, quickly set to work, cleared the rubble from the streets ( saving any usable building materials). Some of the tramlines were restored within a few weeks.
Our CO, a small, tough Ulsterman, was very keen to fly the REME colours from the existing fine flagpole at the factory entrance. We needed large sheets of materials of red, yellow and blue. My task, “if you are willing to accept it” was to produce one.
For the RED I went to the Town Hall, bomb damaged but functioning, asked for a senior official and told him that “I am sure that there must be a store of flags”. After some hesitation he took me to a basement room where I could take my pick of large and small Swastika flags. I selected one as well as a smaller war flag with an iron cross insignia.
A BLUE was a problem. Fortunately I had spotted a cleaner and dyer in the area who were able to provide a suitable blue but no yellow at all. I had myself driven to the nearest small town outside Hanover, which had not been damaged, went into a likely looking Gastwirtschaft and asked for a sheet of their bed linen which the dyers turned into a blue sheet.
The awkward YELLOW was a special problem because there was no yellow dye; it was , solved with the help the of Almighty. The Catholic holy day of Corpus Christi took place just then and we watched a large procession wending its way to an available place of worship. The Nazis had forbidden this and similar demonstrations so it was observed with particular fervour. — and they carried YELLOW flags

copyright 2005 Michael Maynard

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