It was 3.00pm that
afternoon on the 6th June we got the order fall in on the
parade ground, we are on the move, full marching order, our kit bags had
been loaded much earlier, we moved out of Perth barracks, ‘I for one was
not sorry’. We marched down the road toward the railway station, when we
got their [sic] the train was already in the siding, the Q.M.S. had
already loaded the contents of the trucks on to the train, we board in
platoon order, first seven platoon, then eight, and nine, company HQ
next, officers had their own carriages. The train was comfortable, in
between each pair of seats was a small foldable table, so it was not
long before card games were in progress, it was at 1800 hrs the train
pulled out of the siding, we were on our way, but the 64,000 dollar
question was to where.
It was at 20,00 hrs,
when the Q.M. Sergeant came into our carriage, and asked for six
volunteers. As I said before, I volunteer for anything, so I was amongst
the six, he wanted us to distribute the sandwiches, one cornbeef, one
cheese, one jam, and two bread rolls per man, this did not take long as
we were only catering for our own company. A large teas urn was carried
into each carriage, and the lads helped themselves. The Q.M.S. said our
next meal would be when we reach our destination where ever than maybe.
I reckoned that all the officers and N.C.Os knew where we were going.
Most of the lads had a few hour’s sleep, we stopped a number of times,
never found out why, at dawn’s early light we tried to guess our where
abouts, we passed lots of stations that did not help, all station name
plates had been removed.
At 0600 hours the duty
officer came around each carriage he had a bag of coins, each man was
given a single shilling, this was compensation, because the army had
failed to find us a bed the previous day. At 0900 hours we had completed
our overnight train journey, we had not reach[ed] our final destination
yet, we were about to embark on a sea voyage. Southampton was chosen for
our departure, as we detrained and made our way to the dock area, we
could see the ships that were waiting for their human cargo. The Royal
Army Catering Corps had prepared breakfast for us in one of the
warehouses, ‘typical English’ sausage bacon and egg, no porridge. One
hour later we boarded ship…
…
As we marched out of
the harbour area, and into the streets of Cherbourg, small boys were
cheering, but the older men and women of Cherbourg were telling us to go
home. They were shouting La Boche, La Boche are coming, go home, go
home, they knew the Germans were coming, and so did we, but we had a job
to do. Most of us knew that the mission was bound to fail, it was
suicide, and on such a beautiful day…
…
It seemed to us that
the whole French army was on the move, guns and tanks, lorries loads of
French soldiers, all going in the opposite direction to us. We only
covered another 50 miles that day, the trucks pulled of [sic] the road
and took cover in a wooded area. It was only about six in the evening,
it was a lovely evening, still plenty of sunshine about. We could still
see remnants of the French army, heavy guns that were now useless, if
fired again they would kill more French than Germans. The French soldier
knew that his country would soon he under German rule, perhaps they were
trying to get back to their own part of the country, before they
surrendered. Everyone knew that France, like the other invaded
countries, would have to surrender in order to save lives and property.
Once more the Q.M.
Sergeant proved his worth by serving up a hot meal, it was real steak, a
little on the tough side, perhaps. It’s a funny thing we had been
without food for over twelve hours, yet no one had complained. Their
[sic] were no shouts of when do we eat, I think because of the tension,
most people forget about food. When you do get that long awaited meal,
its only then that you realised how hungry you must have been. It was
still light, what a lovely evening for walking down to the nearest town
or village, and chatting up all the French birds, or even hitch hiking
to the coast line and boarding the ship for a cheap one day excursion to
see the white cliffs of Dover, or even walk in the same direction as the
trucks are now facing, meeting your first German, shake hands, and say,
let’s call the whole thing of [sic]. I wonder what the Q.M. put in that
stew it seems to make one indulge in day dreams.
…
We knew that their
[sic] would be no breakfast served up this morning as the Q.M. had not
returned, so we had to make do with day rations. Morale amongst the
troops was on a very low key, I could see that some of the lads had not
shaved since they set foot in France, and discipline seemed to have gone
out the window. The lads were bored, nothing had happened during the
last four days, their [sic] was a couldn’t care less attitude, we were
250 miles inside France, and we hadn’t even seen a live German, come to
think of it we hadn’t seen a dead one either.
…
It was not long before
the platoon sergeants were shouting, right lads on your feet, No 7
platoon fall in, 8 and 9 platoon were given the same order, 7 platoon
took up position 700 yards past the farm, 9 platoon the same distance on
the opposite flank. Headquarters had the farm area, 8 platoon were about
300 yards behind HQ and in reserve. Now it was up to the platoon
officers and sergeants to find the best position for digging in, 7 and 9
platoon were lucky, they had a ditch, so half of the platoon would be
spread out in the ditch, the other half would have to dig in on open
ground about twenty or thirty yards in front of the ditch … in front of
us, the view was not very nice, you could not see the enemy coming over
the hill, their [sic] was no hill, only a large dense wood, and it was
only 400 yards in front of us.
…
This is now the 14th
June, it was about 0900 hours that we heard someone shout , bloody hell
the Germans are coming. Everyone rushed to their positions, the Germans
were making their way through the trees, one long line of them, perhaps
fifty or sixty. ‘We knew we had to hold our fire until the order was
given’ they spread themselves out, about two feet separated one from the
other. They wore their greatcoats. They walked slowly away from the
cover of the trees, they had both hands on their rifles, they had fixed
bayonets. We expected to hear an almighty roar, as they charged for us.
There was no roar, and their [sic] was no charge, just a slow steady
walk, and they got even closer to each other. The farmhouse was their
objective, it was uncanny, what were they trying to do, scare the living
daylights out of us[?] Did they expect us to get up and run for our
lives[?] Did they know we were waiting for them[?] My own feelings were
that these were not the Germans that had swept through Holland, Belgium
and now France. They were zombies, not the kind that had risen from the
dead, they were the dull, stupid type, who could not think for
themselves. They could have been dope[d] up to their eyeballs. My
thoughts were broken when the shout of fire was heard, so one Bren gun
and about thirty rifles opened fire at those wearing the German uniform
… The firing continued for about one minute, their [sic] was no order to
cease firing, each one just stopped firing when their [sic] was no more
enemy left standing. How many had died, and how many more wounded, and
how many had dropped to the ground when the first shot was fired, we
never really found out. The order we got was that if any
