Convalescence

Friday 18th November 1940

Well they say war is hell, and I guess I found out the hard way.

You will notice it has been some time since my last journal entry. You'd think I would have plenty of time to write journal entries from my hospital bed, but unfortunately time is something I have but the ability to write is not until now.

I am writing to you from my bed that is true, but I have only just had enough strength in my arm to write.

It all started just after our encounter with the 88's at Moerdijk. We managed to hold the town against fierce German attacks throughout the rest of that day and all night. As soon as dawn broke and it was clear that the German advances had been halted we were moved South to a forward base, intent on disrupting enemy supply lines rumoured to be running from towns to
the East in towards the towns immediately surrounding Moerdijk.

It would be a very dangerous mission, we would effectively be faced with moving deep into enemy held territory and ambushing supply columns of armour with little support.

We moved out just after midnight - I was assigned to a 6 pounder anti-tank gun and hooked myself up to the back of one of the Bedford trucks assigned to carry us to our destination. I cannot speak highly enough of the bravery of those truck drivers.

We took a very long South loop around to our positions, coming close to French positions at times and we waved to our French brothers in arms as we passed their encampments - if anyone could look as war weary as us then it was them - they had borne the brunt of German aggression for over a year now and were fierce fighters trying to keep Axis forces from re-entering their homeland. They still had spirit in them though, and shouted "Bonne Chance!" and "Allez L'Anglais!" as we drove by.

We arrived at our assigned destination just before dawn, and concealed our guns in tall grass in the fringes of woods overlooking an East to West road. We helped the Bedford truck drivers in concealing their trucks with netting and branches about fifty metres back into the woods.

Then it was a case of watching and waiting. As I brewed a pot of tea inside the woods, I heard the unmistakable low grumble of a heavy tank. It was impossible to tell if it was a PzIVG or StugIIIG at this point, either was an intimidating prospect - but we knew we had to stop these behemoths getting to the front line.

We ran to man the guns just in time to see the lead units of an armoured column edging around the woodland road from the East. The lead unit was a 232 with the obvious radio antennas extending across the top of the vehicle. It was followed by an Opel, filled with our worst fear - infantry. Following this was six heavy tanks - three IVG's and three StugIIIG's - the worst of both worlds. No-one ever said this was going to be easy.

There were two six pounders with us, and three two pounders. The two pounders were assigned to the 232 and Opel and we were assigned to try and do as much damage to the Panzers as possible. We were given the order to open fire and the two pounders opened up with a series of cracks on the lead units. One gun scored a direct hit on the rear of the Opel and with a huge
explosion the back end was shattered - using HE rounds I guessed, good choice with the Opel - twisted metal and twisted bodies were strewn all over the road and the 232 veered off the road into the tall grass.

Unfortunately for him, he became caught in a shallow ditch that ran alongside the road - the other two guns took their chance and with no mercy began to pump AP rounds into the side of the 232. The vehicle twitched unaturally and rolled onto it's side, it's crew now obviously cut to pieces by the AP rounds. The side hatch opened and the driver spilled out onto the grass, crawled for a couple of feet and then ceased moving.

Meanwhile, I sighted up on the rear StugIIIG thinking I wanted to block the escape route out. I slammed three rounds into the side and with a massive explosion the turret flew 20 feet in the air. The other gun had taken out the lead IVG and we both set about the middle four tanks, the two pounders chipping in but having difficulty against the tough skins of the heavy tanks.

We managed to take another two tanks out before they discovered our concealed positions. The IVG started to rake the hillside with it's machine guns, kicking up dirt all around us. Despite this hail of bullets, we managed to keep firing and soon the IVG was burning. The StugIIIG ranged on us and started to fire it's main gun - with a huge clap the gun smashed into one of the two pounder guns, sending the gun and it's crew to oblivion.

Our work mostly done, we began to pull our guns back into the treeline - the remaining IIIG was stuck on the road between burning hulks with ditches either side of him. As I strained to pull my gun back to the treeline, a massive explosion of dirt and dust engulfed me as the Stug found his target. I fell to the floor with searing pain racking my right shoulder and arm, my gun was beyond use so I began dragging myself back into the treeline, luckily I was obscured from the tanks sights by the cloud of dirt and dust and managed to make it into cover.

I pulled myself to my feet and stumbled deeper into the woods, noticing that the Bedford driver had started his engine and had jumped from his cab to help me into the back. Of the 10 gunners that had attacked the column, only five had made it back to the truck and only two of those unwounded - the success of the mission had come at a heavy price.

Looking at my arm I could see that it was broken in at least one place and was covered in lacerations where the round had impacted on my gun shield and splintered into a hundred pieces.

We reversed back further into the woods until we picked up a woodland trail that headed Southwest. At this point I passed out, no longer able to take the intense pain.

When I awoke I was in this hospital bed, my wounds having been dressed and my
arm put in a splint. Luckily the doctors said it was a clean break and because of that I still had my arm.

So here I am having spent six weeks in hospital, getting out tomorrow as my arm and shoulder are healed, but still weak. I will be returning to 2nd AB in Belgium, word is that the Germans are gearing up for a big push towards Dunkirk.

Will write again when back with my un

Those 88's

September 30th 1940

Well it's been a long few days, and a world away from that quiet village where we rested for a while. Since then, it has been one steady, bloody crawl through Holland back into Belgium.

The rumours abound that we were headed for Weert back on the 23rd never came true, mostly because our peace was shattered by a sudden German push across the Northern front lines. Our tranquil village was in very real danger of being swallowed up by the unexpected speed of the advance.

We were pulled back to the nearest forward base to organise some kind of defence. We waited a few hours, then word came that Jerry had been held in our are of the front. We were to be moved to other parts of the front to try and plug gaps before Jerry could exploit them.

Since then it has been a blur of ruined towns and fierce fleeting engagements, nothing prolonged just fast, bloody and brutal encounters with a determined and ruthless enemy.

I have only now had time to sit down and write this journal, as we have now been moved back to positions behind the maritime town of Willemstad in the far North of Holland. It's nice to be back by the seaside after many days fighting in land where it felt so dry.

Yesterday was some of the fiercing fighting I have seen yet, in the Dutch town of Moerdijk. We were moved forward to the town as reports came in of amassing armour and enemy infantry to the East. As we arrived in the town, I was issued with a sub machine gun and assigned to the West depot - it was under attack from several armoured units and multiple enemy infantry.

I made the short journey from the army base to the West depot and found our chaps under heavy engagement from the enemy. After several hours of what seemed like constant fighting, the enemy armour had been destroyed by our skillful sappers, or had moved on to safer targets to the South. Infantry contact became less, as they followed the tanks to the South to both protect them against the threat of sappers and to offer themselves some protection behind their metal hulks.

There was still a deadly threat far out to our West - invisible to us at the moment, but they were there all the same - the unmistakable sound of a pair of 88's firing into the town.

During a lull in the rifle fire, I teamed up with another trooper - Num99 - and we slowly and carefully made our way parallel to the West road searching for our deadly foe.

Before long, the noise was getting louder and louder and we saw the first 88, at the end of a treeline and hidden from the town by a low berm. We made our way to the South of the 88 until we got to the berm and crawled on our bellies until we reached the top. The sound was deafening as the 88 shells were firing directly over us at a height of around 20 feet.

We could hear the shouts of the crew as they reloaded and we picked our moment to rise above the berm and both open fire, me with my Thompson and Num99 with his rifle. The crew fell one by one until none were moving - we knew that this 88 was now out of action.

Spurred on by our success, we made our way along the treeline until we saw the second 88 across a field in another treeline. Num99 bravely tried to flank the 88 by running from our treeline to a berm to our West. The 88 saw him and started to open fire - several rounds punched into the ground, until the gunner found his range, and despite Num99 zig zagging across the field he was hit in the legs and reduced to a motionless pile of rags.

The 88 now turned his attention to me, and started peppering the treeline with shells. I got on the radio and called for help on the RAF channel. My cries were heard by Makky and he replied he was in bound to my position. As he flew overhead with a great raw, the 88 was distracted and sent some deadly flak into the sky after him.

I took my chance and made a break for the treeline, diving into cover 50m from the gun and her crew. Amazingly, they had been so distracted by Makky that they hadn't seen me. I crawled along the treeline to within 10m of their position and could clearly hear them screaming commands as they hunted the aircraft above them.

Makky skillfully used the sun to blind the crew and unleashed a dealy volley of machine gun fire at the crew. The gun disappeared in a huge cloud of dust and earth from the impact - metallic clunks told me that he had found his target.

When the dust cleared, I saw the gun and crew had been decimated by the furious gun fire. The gunner had seemingly been protected by the barrel of his gun and had escaped injury, he was toothless now his gun had been destroyed however. I broke cover and in a full run fired at the gunner, he was hit several times by my fire and crumpled to the ground with a scream.

As the last breath left his body I stood there surrounded by death and destruction, with Makky waving his wings above I could only think of the loss of brave Num99...we just didn't want to give up on those 88's I guess.

Lazy Days

23rd September 1940

Well after the first few days intense action - a baptism of fire you might say - we have been moved back to a village about 10 miles behind the front lines to rest and refit. The Allies are reported to be moving East and taking towns as they go, so I can't see us being in any danger here.

We occasionally see enemy aircraft overhead, but they are high and look destined for bombing missions back in England, I hope our factories are not taking too much of a pounding or spare parts are going to be in short supply soon.

It's very quiet here, and after the fear, noise and confusion of the front lines it's a welcome peace. Time to eat properly, rest and of course write my journal.

Rumours amongst the lads is that we leave for a town called Weert tomorrow, supposedly our boys are taking a bit of a bashing from Jerry armour which has surrounded the town on three sides. We are likely to go in with our ATGs and sappers to try and make a dent in that grey iron wall.

Heavy Metal in Panningen

18th September 1940

Well, the highly anticipated Axis counter attack on the Boxtel-Vehgel forward base never materialised overnight, although that didn't stop most people getting little or no sleep. I am not sure whether it was the anticipation or the adrenaline from the action the day before, but everyone seemed very restless. Flares were constantly being fired to float down over the fields surrounding the base, and several times twitchy sentries fired at shapes in the darkness, but they never came.

At first light, we were told to pack up our kit and be readt to move out to a town called Panningen. Apparently, the Axis held the town but were surrounded by Allied forces. There were reports that the town was occupied by heavy armour and anti aircraft defences.

We arrived mid morning to the forward base of Eind-Panningen - about 5km SW of the town, and after parking the Bedford under some over-hanging brances, I unhitched the 2 pounder from the rear and prepared to move out to support the impending attack. With all the reports of armour in the town I was sure to bag myself a kill.

I made my way out from the FB and headed in a loop that took me to around 1km SW of the town where I deployed and surveyed the area. The reports of heavy enemy motorised activity were not exagerated. Within the first 5 minutes I had seen a Pz III, a 232 and an Opel on the S road out of town.

I was aware of a 6 pounder about 500m out to my SW, and I made contact with the gunner Merlin51. He was trying to get a clear shot at the traffic on the S road, but was partially obscured by a berm and hedges.

We both decided to move up closer to try and attack the armour on the outskirts of town. I slowly made my way to about 300m S of the town, around 10m off the S road in some bushes. I had a clear shot into the centre of town from here and it wasn't long before I could see a Pz IIIf trying to leave town on the S road. I opened up with the 2 pounder and knocked the tank off the road where he became lodged on a berm, his soft underside was now exposed and I put 3 shells into him in quick succession which resulted in a huge explosion and his turret flying 20m in the air.

The crossroads at the S end of town became a killing zone for me in the next 5 minutes, when in quick succession a SdKfz 7, a Stug IIIB and a Pz IIIH tried to leave town, but fell under the crushing blows of my 2 pounder.

By now, my presence had been noticed and I was aware of enemy infantry trying to flank my gun from the E. I swivelled just in time to see a sapper crawling along a hedge towards me. I aimed and the gun barked, followed by a thud and crater where the sapper had been, he lay broken on the edge of the crater, no longer a threat to me.

I was about to turn back to town to see if more armour had appeared, when I heard two loud thuds on the front plate of the gun. I was under fire from a rifleman somewhere in the berms to my NE. A good match for enemy armour, I knew my limitations when it came to enemy infantry and decided to slip away to the SW, and make good my escape to the FB.

On the way back I looked for Merlin51 and to my dismay saw his smashed and twisted 6 pounder 100m to the W of my position. I thought to myself that despite having their backs against the wall in Panningen, the enemy Pz's still had a bite just as dangerous as their bark.

Sortie details...

http://csr.wwiionline.com/scripts/services/persona/sortie.jsp?sid=1191675&pid=447717

First Taste

17th September 1940

What difference a day makes, and how far from home I feel at the moment.

We landed at Calais in the early hours of this morning, and I drove my Bedford from the ferry with a mild feeling of trepidation. This was the first time I had ever left England, and I had hoped when I eventually did it would be under better circumstances than this.

I was assigned 10 infantry troops from 1st Guards Brigade and one of our own 2 pounder anti tank pieces. We left Calais, for our destination of Boxtel in Holland. I had never heard of the place, much less been there.

There was a lot of chatter as we made our way through northern France and into Belgium - rumours that Boxtel was not a million miles from the front - in fact the target for the 1st Guards was the next town over, a small place called Veghel.

We eventually arrived in Boxtel mid afternoon, and after dropping the Guards off we were briefed by our 2AB area commander. We were to move up with the Guards and provide close logistical support. Effectively we were to defend the forward fire base against any enemy counter attacks, while the Guards mounted an assault on the town.

We arrived at the forward base and what struck me immediately was how close it was to the town, I could make out shapes of buildings through the trees surrounding the base. As we were close enough not to require transport, I was assigned along with some other of our guys to follow in behind the Guards and provide any assistance we could.

We left the forward base and headed East at a slow pace until we reached the outskirts of town. I made my way through some low bushes towards an Axis control point on the Southern edge of town. I found myself following one of the Guards and patiently crawling on our stomachs, we made it to the corner of the building.

I could hear shots being fired by the advancing Guards, and the deadly reply from the German defenders. No sooner had I looked around the corner than I saw a German officer enter the building. Believing I had complete surprise, and with a sudden rush of blood I followed him into the building. He must have heard my footsteps as when I proceeded through the door of the building he was facing me in the next room, about 20 feet away from me. He opened fire immediately, but luckily the bullet whistled harmlessly past my head, I fumbled for a grenade and pulling the pin, threw it into the next room. Unfortunately, the grenade hit the door frame and dropped to the ground 5 feet from me - the officer dove through the door away to his left and almost in slow motion, the grenade went off.

Everything went black, and I could see nothing through a huge cloud of smoke. My ears were ringing, but I seemed otherwise unharmed. Putting to hand to my ear I could feel blood. All of a sudden I felt myself being dragged backwards out of the building, when the dust cleared I realised it was the young Guard who had dragged me clear. He helped me back towards the forward base, but I felt well enough to continue and he returned to the fighting.

I was patched up at the forward base and assigned to the defensive perimeter. Some of our armour had arrived now, and there were rumours of enemy sappers in the area. I decided to take up a position below a large bush, looking South across the field. Just then, I noticed some movement in the hedge about 100 yards to my South. It was a German sapper, equipped with several satchel charges and obviously intent on wreaking havoc in our forward base.

I drew my rifle up and trying to calm myself I took aim at the young soldier. Almost in slow motion I fired one shot and saw the man crumple to the ground. Watching him for some while I saw that he was either dead or critically injured. My first combat kill, a strange feeling of distance and surrealism - one that I am sure I will have to endure again.

Soon afterwards we had word from the town that it had been secured by the Guards- Veghel was ours! And that the enemy had retreated from their attack on the forward base.

Tired, frightened, bloodied - but somehow less afraid of what was to come I settled down to a mug of hot tea and my diary. Who knows what tomorrow will bring - or even if we will make it through the night before the inevitable German counter attack.

Hello Diary

16th September 1940

Hello Diary.

Strange words, and ones I never thought I would see myself write, or hear myself speak. Diaries are things for angst ridden school girls trying to get over their latest crush, or maybe for a business man to hold details of important meetings. Or so I thought...

What business does a truck driver from rural Kent have for a diary you might ask? Believe me I have asked myself the same question more than once. But then again, many things that have happened to me over the last 6 months which have brought me to question my preconceptions on life.

Let me introduce myself. My name is Jack Swanson - Utinni to my friends, I am 23 years old and work for a local farm as a truck driver - delivering produce to markets all over Kent. I never really have kept up with current events, and I admit without apology that this war here has kind of slipped me by so far.

As you know, we have been at war with Mr Hitler for just over a year now following his invasion of Czechoslovakia - and although with all my heart I had hoped that I would be isolated from this European war in my idyllic country village surroundings, I couldn't have been more wrong.

Some of the lads in the local village pub had been talking about joining up, and I must admit that I became a little swept up in the patriotic verve that seemed to be sweeping England in early 1940. The Axis hordes were advancing through Holland and Belgium in what people are calling a Blitzkreig - apparently a completely new form of warfare so the papers say. Our boys in the air are doing a sterling job keeping the Luftwaffe at bay, but we all know - and fear - that if Holland and Belgium fall then France will be next, and then who knows - maybe the unthinkable...England.

So it came to pass, one cool March evening in the local pub the Kings Arms, a local recruiting officer was drumming up business and seeing a group of lads together decided to try his luck. As it happened, we had seen the best part of 5 pints of English real ale each and were in high spirits, singing Rule Brittania and God Save The King, much to the amusement of the innkeeper! Before we knew it, one fellow had signed on the dotted line and well, you know young chaps after a few beers, egged each other one and before too long we were all enlisted men...just need to tell the wife the news when I got home.

To cut a long story short, I was identified as a truck driver by the recruiting officer and earmarked for the 2nd Armoured Brigade as a supply driver, ferrying troops and ammunition. I must admit that I was slightly disappointed not to be going with the other chaps (all farm labourers) into the infantry, I imagined my role would be behind the lines and a long way from the action.

I was sent to Shorncliffe barracks in Folkestone, Kent for basic training - apparently, all personnel no matter their role would have to complete basic infantry training and be able to handle a rifle. Even as a truck driver, there would be times that I would be required to perform a front line role - so I was told, however much I believed it at the time.

I spent six months at Shorncliffe, which wasn't too bad as it was only 10 miles from home and I could still see the wife quite often, unlike many of the other chaps who suffered terribly from home sickness.

We have now completed basic training, and have been told that we leave for France tomorrow. Part of what is being called the BEF - British Expeditionary Force - going over to help the French try and stop Jerry from breaking through Belgium into France itself.

I have been trained, and am confident in my ability as a truck driver, and now also as an infrantryman, but still feel very nervous about what awaits. We have heard terrible rumours of the casualties being inflicted on the French by the Germans, not to mention the civilian population.

I must try and get some sleep, we ship out early in the morning and I have a lot of driving ahead, as soon as we land in Calais, I have to drive a Bedford OY laden with troops and equipment to our staging area near to the front.

I hope to write again once I arrive there. Safely...I hope.