Major H.C. Mitchell, MBE - SCAA Projects

The Wartime Exploits of

MajorH.C. Mitchell, MBE

Foreword

This copy of Wartime Memoirs of Major Howard Mitchell, MBE is a reproduction ofthe original that was written and published by Major Mitchell some years ago. MajorMitchell served in the SLI (MG) a wartime unit which has been superseded by theNorth Saskatchewan Regiment.

Major Mitchell was highly decorated for his wartime exploits. The following is an out-line of his service provided from the National Archives of Canada:

Name: Howard Clifton MITCHELLRank on enlistment: 2nd Lieutenant

Rank on discharge:Major

Date of Enlistment: 6 October 1939 (previous service with Canadian Officer TrainingCorps Saskatchewan Unit)

Date of Discharge/Transfer: 18 December 1945 (he joined the reserves)Theaters of service: Canada, United Kingdom and Central Mediterranean Area

Medals:Member of the Order of the British Empire (The Canada Gazette 15 December 1945page 5734 continued)

Military Cross Class III (Conferred by the Government of Greece in recognition of dis-tinguished service in the cause of the Allies.) (The Canada Gazette 17 January 1948page 345)

1939-45 Star, Italy Star, Defense Medal, Canadian Volunteer Service Medal and Clasp

In addition to the original text I have added information about three individualsnamed in the book, the pictures and the citation for Major Mitchell’s MBE and MilitaryCross 3rd Class (Greece)

Reproduced by:LCol. Gerry Carline, CD, RCA (Retired)

September 2008

The medals pictured above were issued to MajorHoward Mitchell, MBE for his service duringWorld War II. The medals were found aban-doned in a storage container and came into thepossession of LCol. G. F. Carline, CD in July 2008.

When found the medals were not mounted aspictured. They were loose and not in good condi-tion. The box that they were in contained a notewritten by Major Mitchell which said that theMBE had been presented to him by King GeorgeVI and that the Greek Military Medal Third Classhad been presented to him by the King George II,King of the Hellenes (Greek King).

The box also contained three Royal Canadian Le-gion Medals - Past President, 50 Year ServiceMedal. and 60 Year Service Medal.

The Legion medals had Major Mitchell’s name in-

scribed on the back of them and that made it pos-sible to identify the original owner of the medals.The medals have now been properly cleaned, an-odized and court mounted.

Through the assistance of Dr. Ian Wilson,Archivist for Canada and his staff at the Archivesand Library of Canada and also LCol. LarryWong,CD (Retired) former CO of the NorthSaskatchewan Regiment we have been able touncover the story of Major Howard Mitchell,MBE.

Major Mitchell’s own account of his wartime ex-periences follows.

We Shall remember Them!

The Wartime Exploit of Major H.C. Mitchell 4

The Medals of Major Howard C. Mitchell, MCL to R: Member of the British Empire, 1939-1945 Star, Italy star, France and Germany Star,Defence Medal, Canadian Volunteer Service Medal, Greek Military Medal Third Class

Chapter 1 I Enlist Page 9Chapter 2 The Stadium, Saskatoon Page 11Chapter 3 We Leave Canada Page 14Chapter 4 England Page 17Chapter 5 Aldershot Page 19Chapter 6 Bulford Camp Page 28Chapter 7 We Start On Our Way To War Page 31Chapter 8 The Defence Of Britain Page 34Chapter9 Change of Command Page 37Chapter 10 “C” Company Page 40Chapter 11 Scotland Page 46Chapter 12 Schemes Page 48Chapter 13 Brighton Page 49Chapter 14 Coulsdon 2Chapter 15 We Get Our “Colours” Page 59Chapter 16 Change of Command Page 60Chapter 17 Hove Page 63Chapter 18 Steyning Page 67Chapter 19 Crookham Crossroads Page 70Chapter 20 Frant Page 76Chapter 21 Toward Castle Page 77Chapter 22 Liphook Page 79Chapter 23 Bishop Stortford Page 80Chapter 24 Heavy Motars Page 81Chapter 25 The Assault on Sicily Page 84Chapter 26 The Assault on Italy Page 90Chapter 27 Food Page 93Chapter 28 People Page 95Chapter 29 Rest at Oratino Page 96Chapter 30 Naples Page 98Chapter 31 The Moro River Page 100Chapter 32 Ortona Page 103Chapter 33 Counter Mortars Page 105Chapter 34 Roatti Page 108Chapter 35 Lucera Page 109Chapter 36 The Hitler Line Page 111Chapter 37 Piedmonte Page 113Chapter 38 Florence Page 116Chapter 39 The Gothic Line Page 118Chapter 40 Rimini Page 119Chapter 41 Another River to Cross Page 122Chapter 42 The Savio River Page 125Chapter 43 Riccione Page 127Chapter 44 We Get New Generals Page 129Chapter 45 Rotational Leave Page 133Chapter 46 Overseas Again Page 137Chapter 47 de But Page 139Chapter 48 Leave Page 144Chapter 49 England Again Page 146Appendix 1 Citations Page 149

Table of Contents

MYWAR

Major Howard Mitchell

Saskatoon Light Infantry (MG)PREFACE

Modern wars involve everyone in one way or another. The memoirs of a general have a very wideappeal. Many were affected by the decisions of a general.

A general can win a battle or war because of the disciplined effort of many people. Individually thosemany may not seem to have done much. But because of what each did the event was possible. “Whenthe roll was called out yonder” they were there. That was their important contribution.

Ex-service men form one of the greatest “natural fraternities.” We shared the boredom, the monotonyand the loneliness as well as the excitement, the thrills and the laurels. We never tire of recountingwhen... These pages have been written in that spirit. I want to share some of the more unusual experi-ences that I had. It is sort of “worm’s eyeview” of the Second World War where the worm takes forgranted that everyone knows about the daily routine and accomplishments of the Army. This is animportant point to remember. Otherwise reading the following pages may lead one to believe thatwine, women and song were our sole occupation and not just our favorite diversion.

This story is dedicated to the memory of those men and women who, in 1939, laid their lives on theline for a Depression-ridden Canada.

ORGANIZATION

Aword about the organization of the army. ManyCanadians, not having personal experience, findthis to be very confusing. An army, in the field,must be able to carry on under any circumstancesencountered without having to depend on localresources. Somewhere, in the army organization,there will be a unit to supply every individualneed. Following is a very rough explanation ofthe organization.

In WW II the Canadian Army was patternedclosely after the British Army.To begin with thereis the base organization which recruits and trainsthe soldiers; specifies, procures and supplies allmaterial; and sends up reinforcements.

The army in the field is an independent organiza-tion commanded by a general. It consists of twoor more corps, each commanded by a Lieutenant.General, and a host of specialized units. Eachcorps consists of two or more divisions, eachcommanded by a Maj. General, and more special-ized units.

In normal circumstances the division is the small-est formation used in the field. For special pur-poses a brigade may be used. For instance, theCanadian contribution to NATO forces was abrigade. But when that brigade was cut in half itbecame a joke.There are armoured divisions and infantry divi-sions. They are similar in organization but differ-ent. My experiences were with the infantry.

An infantry division consisted of nine infantrybattalions. These were organized into threebrigades, each commanded by a brigadier. Alsounder the command of the division was a Regi-ment of 25 pdr. artillery; a regiment of anti tankguns; a reconnaissance regiment; a machine gunbattalion; a medical unit; an army service Corpsunit; and ordinance corps unit; and engineer

unit..

Each battalion and regiment consisted of 800-900all ranks and was commanded by a Lieutenant.Colonel.

Each battalion or regiment was organized intofour combat companies, batteries or squadrons,and a headquarters company or squadron, eachcommanded by a captain or major. Each com-pany or squadron was organized into three pla-toons or troops, each commanded by alieutenant. Headquarter Coy or sqdn looked aftersupplies, etc.

Our battalion, the Saskatoon Light Infantry (MG)was mobilized and served until Jan. 1, 1943 as amachine gun battalion. We had 48 Vickers Ma-chine guns. They were dubbed the “peanut ar-tillery.” These were water cooled guns that couldfire continuously. They were on a fixed mountwhich meant they could be used against unseentargets by using maps for calculations. We hadtwo types of ammunition: ordinary MKVII .303ammunition that the riflemen used. It had a max-imum range of 2500 yards. Our MKVIII ammuni-tion had a range of 4500 yards.

In Jan. 1943 our battalion was reorganized tomeet the expected needs. We were given 20 mm.Oerlikon anti aircraft guns and 4.2 inch mortarsas well as our Vickers machine guns.

We were called a support battalion. There wasbattalion headquarters which, in action, tookcommand of the Divisional Maintenance Areaand practically suspended connection with thebattalion with the exception of HeadquartersCompany. The rest of the battalion was organizedinto three Groups. Each group consisted of aheadquarters, one company of Vickers machineguns, one company of 20 mm. Oerlikon anti air-craft guns and one battery of 4.2 inch mortars.The 4.2 inch mortars fired a bomb that weighted


19 pounds. Its’ maximum range was 4800yards. We had high explosive and smoke bombs.It was originally designed for chemical warfare.Somewhere, no doubt, there was a store of chemi-cal bombs. We never saw any. Within our rangewe could match the 25 pdr artillery for speed andaccuracy - with one exception. Each bomb had atail unit which stabilized its’ direction. If the tailunit came off no one knew where it would go.

Because of allied air superiority it was found thatthe Oerlikon anti aircraft guns were not needed.So our battalion was re-organized again. TheGroups were disbanded. We were organized intothree machine gun companies and one mortargroup of three batteries. Each machine gun com-pany and mortar battery was assigned to abrigade with which it usually served. On manyoccasions they were all used together.


Chapter 1: Enlist

It might be said that my military career beganone sunny day late in May 1924 when our schoolprincipal told us boys to be back at school at 1p.m. We were issued with rifles and we reportedto the school janitor out on the football field. Wewere Cadets. At five p.m. that same afternoon wewere inspected by a lieutenant, from MilitaryDistrict HQ in Regina. In the interval the janitorhad taught us the rudiments of foot drill and rifledrill. He was so effective that, after inspecting us,the young officer congratulated us in a speechthat I have heard many times since, in fact, I havemade it myself, on occasion.

That autumn, when my chum and I were en-rolling at the University of Saskatchewan., wediscovered that those students who took theCOTC course were not obliged to take PT. In ad-dition, two years COTC counted as a class. Thefinal clinching argument - one got paid fifteendollars for each year’s parades.

We were known as Pottsey’s Army and came infor a lot of derision on the campus in those daysof pacifism. In the same way that a child cannotpoint to any achievements in a particular period,I cannot say now just how much that we learnedabout the Army in COTC. But it was our intro-duction to army life. Arthur Potts, and others likehim, deserve the gratitude of the nation. In spiteof ridicule and indifference they created theskeleton around which Canada was able to buildher effort in 1939 - 1945.

On that fateful day in September 1939 I was com-bining wheat. The agent for some of the land thatI was farming came to see me on business. Hehad a radio in his automobile. Almost withinminutes of the outbreak of hostility I knew of it.It was inevitable that Canada would enter thewar. In spite of the silly proposal of my politicalleaders, that Canada should make her contribu-

tion that of material, I thought it certain thatCanada would send another Expeditionary Forceoverseas. I was single and so almost certain to beconscripted when that phase began. Besides anyaltruistic motives that I may have had, it wasclearly to my advantage to volunteer right away,and take advantage of what training I had whentrained people were almost non-existent. On al-most the first day of war I resolved to enlist. Ipressed on with the harvest and, when the wheatwas all threshed, I drove into Saskatoon in mynew second hand truck to offer my services.

The first thing that I did in Saskatoon was to buya new hat. I had a very good suit of clothes, etc.but my headgear was disreputable. I wanted tomake a good impression. Then I drove out to theUniversity where I contacted Prof. Arthur Potts,also Brigadier Potts in the NPAM. How should Igo about enlisting? Prof. Potts remembered medimly. I am sure he did not remember much thatwas favourable, as I was not one of his starcadets. However, he was very enthusiastic aboutthe need for a person from a mechanized farm inthe newly mechanized army that Canada wasgoing to create. He advised me to contact the COof the Saskatoon Light Infantry.

Next morning, armed with my COTC certificateA, I presented myself to the CO of the SLI. Hewas very courteous but he had his complementof officers He arranged for me to see the CO ofthe 21st Bty The Artillery did not need an officereither Feeling extremely low, I reported my lackof success to Prof Potts He did some telephoningand I went back to the CO of the SLI This tunemy reception was more favourable I was sentover to the depot for my medical and documen-tation After everything had been satisfactorilycompleted, I was duly accepted as an officer ofthe SLI. I was given two weeks leave to wind upmy affairs I had passed a milestone It was 6 Octo-ber ‘39.


This beginning of my association with ArthurPotts with something that no one in the Bn, be-sides he and I, understood. It was commonknowledge amongst the officers that Col. Clelandhad at first rejected me and then, at Potts’ insis-tence, accepted me. The Adj.-Capt. Allan Embury,who, as an RMC graduate, was the one profes-sionally trained officer in the Bn, was quite con-vinced that I had political influence. Eight yearslater, in an hotel room in Kindersley,Saskatchewan., he was flabbergasted when I toldhim that I had always been a C.C.F.’er of Depres-sion days vintage.

It is hard to remember the situation of those days.I think that Potts was almost certain from the out-break of hostilities, that he would take the SLIoverseas, I am quite convinced that Potts wasseized with the challenge of organizing a mecha-nized battalion. He knew that there would bemany problems and he had no idea what theywould be. A common boast of his during thatfirst year was that most of his men had driventrucks and tractors on the farm and would beeasy to organize into a mechanized Bn. I think heeventually had to eat those words. Certainly Ichanged my opinion on that point. A boy, whohad learned to drive his father’s truck, was oftenthe most difficult to convince that there might bea reason for the way the army wanted him todrive.

I feel quite sure that Potts thought that I, a farmerwho owned and operated his own modern ma-chinery, was an excellent potential officer. Mymilitary background might be sketchy but I hadconsiderable practical experience.

Looking back I like to think that I justified Pott’sjudgment of that time. Certainly during that firstyear, it seemed to me, a pattern was set thatlasted throughout the six years that I was withthe Bn. Whenever anything unusual came up, forwhich no one was properly trained, “Mitch” was

given the job. He had no military background tosully if he failed and he usually figured outsomething.


Chapter 2: The Stadium, Saskatoon

At the end of my leave I reported to the Battalionat the Stadium in Saskatoon. Everything andeverybody was in a turmoil. Recruiting was con-tinuing. Quite a high percentage of the applicantswere unsuitable. The provisions for training con-sisted almost entirely of one PPCLI Sgt. plus theNPAM Battalion. There was no equipment, nouniforms.

Everyone in the Battalion was a completestranger to me. I knew how little I knew aboutthe army. I did not know how little the othersknew. It was a time of feeling my way around. Inthe process I found that a smart figure in a smartuniform was sometimes misleading. Most of theother officers had connections in the city andvery few lived in the lines. Consequently it tooklonger to become acquainted. However we hadour moments. One night that I remember was aping pong game in the mess anteroom. Eachplayer’s drink was on the table. The player, intowhose glass the ball was put, stood the round ofdrinks. The game was quite lengthy and hilari-ous.

The first time that I found myself coming to beaccepted by the other officers was following amess dance in the Barry Hotel. A friend fromhome, with whom I had often danced in the OldSchool House during the Depression days, was inthe city and was my partner that evening. Wethought the music was good and we really “cutthe rug.” My fellow officers were impressed. Ofsuch are armies built.

I had been reared to loathe John Barleycorn. Ifound that was the first obstacle I had to cross inthe mess. My patriotic fervour was such that Iwas willing to risk even that. To my surprise I didnot go straight to hell. I did considerable experi-menting but at least a year was to elapse before Ibegan to really understand the good influence

that alcohol can be.

One night a fire broke out in one of the Exhibitionbuildings. Maurice Dupuis was the duty officerthat night. The person who discovered the firehad turned in the alarm to the city fire depart-ment. I think that our Battalion had a few pails ofsand and water but little else of its own. How-ever Maurice, who had had a couple drinks,thought that the duty officer should do some-thing but did not know what. The Orderly Sgt.had rounded up the fire piquet. Maurice hadthem fallen in and then he proceeded to havethem number over and over again. Fortunately asenior officer came along and spared the piquetthe task of fighting a fire by numbering.One of the Battalion’s headaches at that time wasone of our Indian recruits. Throughout my sixyears with the Battalion on active service, I wasvery proud of our Indian boys. But Big Bearcould not stand fire water. And Big Bear wasstrong. Whenever Big Bear was allowed out ofthe barracks, he got drunk. And when he gotdrunk, he got into a fight and literally smashedup the house wherever he was. It was alwaysnecessary for the Orderly Sgt. to take his full pi-quet with him to retrieve Big Bear, and, on oneoccasion at least, he smashed the detention cell inthe stadium and got out.

Early in November, Maj. D. Walker conducted aschool for the Non Commissioned Officers andjunior officers of the Battalion. There were aboutninety of us. In three weeks we covered the rudi-ments of army life as for a machine gunner. Ihave always regarded that course as being theinitial base upon which the record of our Battal-ion was built. It wasn’t that we learned so much.It was the attitude to our job that we learned thatwas so important. We were the Non Commis-sioned Officers and officers from all Companies,of the Battalion. That course was the first unify-ing influence in our Battalion and it set the stan-dard for our future training. Few men had a


greater influence on the SLI in 1939-45 than Dray-ton Walker.

I was attached to ACompany commanded byMaj. E.J. Scott-Dudley. That was the beginning ofa very unhappy association. He knew of how Icame to the Battalion and, like everyone else,misunderstood the situation. He was a bankerwho despised his own farm background. On mypart even his hyphenated name was repulsive.Characteristically the first good impression that Imade on him was when I helped to fill out thepay books for a batch of new recruits. I printed,by hand, their name, etc., as any grade two childcould have done. He thought that I did ratherwell at that.

One day in October, Brigadier Pearkes arrived toinspect our Battalion. It occurred to me that hewas very annoyed at what he saw. The Battalionwas terribly equipped. It wasn’t a case of gettinga uniform to fit - the thing was to get a uniform.Some were in civies. Some had ill fitting battledress blouses and trousers. No belts, no anklets.Wedge caps that we didn’t know how to wear.The officers only had field service dress uni-forms, Sam Brownes, kid gloves, et al. Pearkessoon got us off the parade ground and asked tosee some training. I do not recall what happenedto the men but he got the Second in command ofthe Battalion to give six of us junior officers somegun drill and fire orders with our D.P. Vickersguns. Major Thomson, the Second in commandwas a 1914-18 infantry veteran who, since mobi-lization, had been worried sick about cooks, la-trine buckets and quarters. He may have seen aVickers gun before hand, I do not know. I knowthat I had only seen one a couple of times. Someof the other junior officers were more proficient.Nevertheless weird things happened in that pe-riod of training. I was one of the officers whomBrigadier Pearkes ordered to be eliminated.

The inspection party left and we got on with our

job. That was my first real lesson that the armytaught me. That debacle, far from being disas-trous, welded us together. We had shared a cru-cial experience. I do not know what strings werepulled but no one was dropped because of it. Wehad become brothers in arms.

Late in November we were inspected by MajorGen. A.G.L. McNaughton, Inspector General ofthe Canadian Army. This time we were betterprepared. We had a few uniforms and we hadlearned how to get on and off the parade ground.Things went reasonably well. That evening, inthe mess, Professor Potts introduced Fred Daweand me to General McNaughton. I was verygreatly impressed. One of the General’s firstquestions was as to whether we had finished oureducation. It was going to be a long war and hethought that our first duty was to become as pro-ficient as we could in our own vocation.

Shortly after that inspection Brigadier Potts re-verted to Lt. Col. and took command of our Bat-talion. Often since, I have thought that he was theonly man who could have taken us overseas andmade a going concern out of us. I still doubt thathe knows which end of a machine gun the bulletscome out. But he knew men and he knew the par-ticular collection of men who made up the SLI atthat time. A veteran of 1914-18 and a long timeNon Permanent Active Militia officer he knewwhat we had to become to be effective and heknew what we lacked. His particular forte wasbeing able to choose men to do a job and thenleaving them to do it. I always felt that I knew ex-actly where I stood with Pottsey.

His impression on me, when he came on his firstparade, was of an aging man in a sloppy uni-form, being slightly ludicrous. But every man inthe Battalion knew that times had changed.never got to know Lt. Col. Cleland. Those whohad served under him in the Non Permanent Ac-tive Militia Battalion always spoke highly of him.


Later he took the salute at a march past as wemarched downtown to board our train for over-seas. That day he was very unhappy.

Plans for the Battalion to proceed overseas beganto take shape. First came a series of inoculations.They were multiple things given to protect usfrom several dangers. We had three goes at it.Some men had a greater reaction than others. Istill do not know whose responsibility it was forwhat happened but some terrible things occurredas a consequence. Our permanent force Drill Sgt.had an idea that the best treatment for a newlyinoculated person was a brisk bit of rifle andsquad drill. The unnecessary agony that that foolcaused. Our final shots came a few days beforewe entrained. One of the men, in what was nomi-nally my platoon, got so ill that he had to betaken off the parade ground. ANon Commis-sioned Officer told me about it and I rushed overto the Regimental Aid Post where I asked theMedical Officer to come and look at my man. Heinsisted that the sick soldier should be paraded tohis office. We compromised with a stretcher.When the poor fellow got to the Regimental AidPost, he was dead.

We did not have enough recruits to fill our com-plement. A group of ninety officers, Non Com-missioned Officers and men were transferred tous from the Regina Rifles. The formal organiza-tion of the Battalion into complete companies,plus a re-enforcement company was undertaken.That called for considerable paper work andcould not be finally completed until just beforewe got onto the train as we were to take an exactnumber of bodies. In a battalion, there is always adaily wastage.

Lt. Bradbrooke and I were the two re-enforce-ment officers. He went with the advance party. Itwas my job, the afternoon before we left Saska-toon, to sit in the Adjutant’s office with my nomi-nal rolls as each company commander went over

his nominal roll with the Adjutant. All five Com-pany Commanders came in, one at a time, ha-rassed but in quite good humour. Each in turn,after his session with the Adjutant, left fightingmad. I have never met anyone who had the abil-ity to antagonize people that Allan Embury hadon that occasion.

His position can hardly be imagined. As adjutantand also as the one professionally trained officerin the Battalion he had been responsible for all ofthe paper work connected with the mobilizationof the Battalion. During practically all of that pe-riod Lt. Col. Cleland was in command. I am surethat Cleland knew as well as Potts of the likeli-hood of Potts taking command of the Battalion.Losing the command was a terrible heartbreakfor Cleland. It was almost inevitable that hewould be indecisive under such circumstances.Indecision by the Commanding Officer madeEmbury’s job impossible.


Chapter 3: We Leave Canada

December 5, 1939 we left Saskatoon in two trains.Lt. Col. Potts went with the first train and Maj.Charles McKerron, Officer Commanding ofHeadquarters Company, commanded the secondtrain which traveled two hours later than thefirst. They were standard tourist coachesequipped with double windows for the winterweather. The windows could not be opened. Theofficials were afraid that we, untrained troops,could not be relied on and orders were given thatwe were to entrain and not get off. Farewellswere to be said through the windows. The boystook one look at the glass that separated themfrom their loved ones. As though there was anexplosion, every window on the platform side ofthe train burst out. By the time the second trainwas made ready, the windows had been loosenedso that they could be opened.

There were two aftermaths to this window break-ing. The first was that the boys in the coaches af-fected had to improvise window coverings tokeep out the elements. The second, was that for ayear or more the authorities tried to get Potts topay for the windows out of regimental funds,which he cheerfully refused to do.

My military education continued on the secondtrain. Maj. McKerron was a First War veteran. Helaid on a daily routine for the train - includingthe Commanding Officer’s inspection. Each of usofficers was in command of a coach. I couldhardly believe that these boys were the samewestern farm lads, who had enlisted in Saska-toon. I laid on that the coach, that I commanded,was to be cleaned. Entirely on their own the boysused their own brasso to polish the bright metalparts in the car and their own shoe polish toshine the black pieces of metal. I am sure that theconductor of that train had never before seensuch a clean train. The coaches could not havelooked better when new.

Enroute, one man, in my coach, developed scarletfever. He was taken off the train and everythingproceeded as usual except that whole train wasconfined, each to their own coach. When we gotto Halifax, we were marched off the train ontothe pier one coach at a time. With everyone carry-ing all his luggage it was a very cumbersome ef-fort.

A guide lead me and my coach load into a largeroom in what I later learned was the ImmigrationBuilding. As soon as we were all in the room theguide locked a metal door which very effectivelyimprisoned us. Until that moment, I had not sus-pected a thing. No one wanted to run the risk ofhaving a shipload of men contaminated withscarlet fever. We were in quarantine for twoweeks.

From this distance in time, it is difficult to realizeour thoughts. I had very little knowledge of themilitary and knew absolutely nothing about aship. Had I known then, what I know now, aboutthe loading schedules, etc. of a ship, I would havebeen in even greater despair. As it was I honestlythought it to be quite possible for the war to fin-ish before we rejoined the Battalion. Those werethe days of the phony war and everyone had asublime faith in the French Maginot line.

The Officer Commanding of the transit depot inHalifax was Major Small, who worked forDOSCO in civilian life. He was the smallest manthat I encountered in uniform anywhere. And hewas the most perfect gentleman that I met any-where. I understand that later he took a Battalionoverseas of mostly Cape Breton miners. Later Lt.Col. Small was transferred to anotherUnit and a stranger was given command of Bat-talion. I was told that the loyal miner soldiersstaged a sit down strike to protest losing Lt. Col.Small as the Commanding Officer.

Major Small made us very comfortable. We were


not allowed freedom but we were able to takeroute marches about the city and given equip-ment to do a bit of training. All of which helpedto pass the time. His greatest contribution wasthat he got us included in the second troop con-voy. Knowing now how carefully each ship isloaded, I do not understand how he did it. But hewas well enough acquainted that he did get usaboard the Ship ALAMANZORAwith the RoyalCanadian Regiment who were commanded byLt. Col, Hodson and whose Adjutant was Capt.Dan Spry.

The Alamanzora was a passenger ship equippedfor travel in a warm climate. In December it wascold. We landlubbers were not accustomed to theclose quarters one takes up on a ship. We werenot always happy. The ship’s wine cellar had itspeace time stock. We officers had quite an adven-ture sampling the various kinds of beveragewhich we were able to order. The meals weregood enough. Some men were horribly sick.Much to my surprise, I was not. One morningwhen I went in to breakfast, I thought that wehad caught the stewards unprepared. There wasnothing on the tables. However, before we fin-ished eating we learned why. The sea got veryrough and several times tables and chairs slidacross the room.

We were at sea Christmas Day. The stewardsgave the Christmas menu a big build up. Whenthe Christmas dinner was placed before me I wasready to riot. I am sure that the turkey had beenboiled. It was served with preserved peaches - nocranberries. It was a horrible let down for a farmboy.

There were about a dozen different units and de-tachments on board. One day, Capt. Spry calledan Orders Group of the heads of each. It turnedout that an enemy submarine was known to benear our convoy. We were ordered not to divulgethis information to anyone, but to make sure that

all necessary precautions were taken. My seniorNon Commissioned Officer was Sgt. Booth. Al-most immediately after the Orders Group, Sgt.Booth told me about the submarine. It seems thata junior Non Commissioned Officer in a signalcorps detachment had read the semaphore mes-sage that had transmitted the information to ourship, as it was being sent by the flagship of theconvoy. The net result of the security regulationsenforced was that the only people aboard theship who did not know about the submarinewere the officers.

Another interesting angle on security measures.At that time the German ship Graf Spee wasbeing pursued in South American waters. Dailynewscasts mentioned that the French battleshipDunkerque was taking part in the pursuit. TheDunkerque was the senior ship in our convoythroughout the voyage.

As soon as we came to rest in Liverpool Harboura tender came alongside. Amongst those whocame aboard was a Major Luce of the King’s OwnYorkshire Light Infantry (K.O.Y.L.I,). He hadcome purposely to welcome the fiftySaskatchewan. L. I.’s whom he had noticed to beaboard the ship register. I had heard vaguelyabout our affiliation with the K.O.Y.L.I. and I didhave a faint appreciation of his interest and of hisinvitation to visit the depot in Yorkshire.

We landed at Liverpool. Everyone paraded onthe dock where we were officially greeted by An-thony Eden and Vincent Massey. After thespeeches they walked up and down our ranks. Iguess that they picked on the greenest looking of-ficer and stopped to talk to me. Eden asked meabout the voyage and about myself. I was quiteengrossed in the conversation when Eden said“now they will get your picture back home.” Ilooked away from him and sure enough therewas a complete semi-circle of cameras facing us.Our train was waiting and we got away without


a hitch. About four o’clock in the afternoon thetrain stewards came through and set up tables ineach compartment in preparation for the eveningmeal. It was midnight when they served themeal. I do not recall what the hold up was. I doknow that we were frantic. We had emergency ra-tions with us of bully beef and biscuits. My civil-ian background did not allow me to understandthe sanctity of emergency rations in the army. At10 p.m. I instructed Sgt. Booth to distribute theemergency rations. The next day, when I reportedthis to our Quartermaster, Capt. Archie Gray, Ithought that he would have a fit.


Chapter 4: England

We were met at Farnborough siding by Col. Pottsand Lt. Maurice Dupuis on New Year’s Day.Maurice took me to my quarters. There were veryfew people around the barracks as everyone hadbeen given a one week leave. I was supposed toshare a room with Lt. Vergne Marr. Dupuis verydisgustedly told me that Vergne played darts. Hecouldn’t have me with such a character. I mustmove in with him and Lt. Rob Irvine. Little didMaurice suspect that in six months time thewhole 1st Canadian Division would be playingdarts.

That room that Marr and I shared sticks in mymemory more than purgatory ever will. It turnedout to be a cold winter. I simply could not getwarm in the English climate. We had a coal fire inthe grate and I know now that we burned muchmore than the regulation allowance. In additionwe had two electric radiant heaters.

As soon as the other officers came back I went onmy leave. Of course I went to London. I don’t re-call how I happened to go there but I stayed atthe Strand Palace Hotel. For my very first noonmeal in London I went down to the dining roomin the Strand Palace. The place was alive withpeople. Quite obviously second Lts. were a dimea dozen to the headwaiter. Equally obviously hewas not tying up a whole table with one SecondLt. It took me about ten minutes to size up the sit-uation. Waiting with me was an oldish EnglishSecond Lt. He wore a red armband but thatmeant nothing to me. I spoke to him and sug-gested that, if we went together, we might get atable more quickly. He was a bit hesitant but ac-cepted. Almost immediately we were given atable for two. The Englishman was delighted.

His name was Beattie. It turned out that heworked in the War Office and that his particularline was fire prevention and fire regulations, etc.,

in all army buildings. He invited me to join himwith his wife and niece to see a show the nextevening. Of course I did. That evening was a rev-elation to me. It was a variety show. Such beauti-ful scenery, costumes and music. It wasunbelievable. And so was the humour. I wasnever so embarrassed in all my life.

Beattie caused almost as much consternation asvisiting royalty when, about a month later he,with his red armband, turned up at our barracksin Farnborough enquiring for me. I think he wasa Capt. then. About a year later he was a Lt. Col. -Which was something in the British Army. I losttrack of him after that.

My itinerary in London was typical I went tochurch in St. Paul’s I was thrilled I visited MmeToussaud’s wax works I did not like them at all. Idrove about the city on an outside seat on a twodecker bus. Somehow I picked up a man who, forten shillings, rode about with me, pointing out allthe places of interest.

Probably the most enlightening observation thathe made was about English women. He told methat they did not expect a man to spend a lot ofmoney to entertain them. All that they wantedwas companionship. His name was Piercy. Helived in London After our sightseeing he took meto his home for tea.

Sunday afternoon I went out to Hyde Park to seethe soap box orators. That was really Something.There were five speaking that day. One was awoman and she could out talk them all. I was fas-cinated with her and stood listening when, to myhorror, she stopped her Speech and publicly andpersonally bade me welcome to England andthanked me for coming. I moved on. Anotherspeaker was a communist. There were about fif-teen British Tommies in his audience. He wastelling them what fools they were to be in uni-form. The Tommies were in great spirits and un-


dertook to heckle him, which they did so effec-tively that he couldn’t get on with his speech. Fi-nally the communist turned to the impassive“bobby”, who was on duty and asked for help.The policeman spoke to the Tommies “come nowlads, let the guvnor have his saigh.”

Listening to the next Speaker I found myself inconversation with a petite brunette girl. I do notremember how the conversation started but shewas very pleasant. She was from Persia. Herbrother was with the British army in Egypt. Isuppose we talked for about ten minutes I wasquite charmed. Finally she said, “You know thereis a very nice Lyons tea house just across thestreet where we could have some tea.” That wasthe first thing that she said to arouse my suspi-cions. I looked around and we were completelysurrounded by a circle of people who were ignor-ing the speaker to watch us. I am sure that in an-other minute a “bookie” would have appearedfrom somewhere ready to quote odds on whethershe would pick me up.

One evening towards the end of my leave I wasgetting quite lonely seeing London by myself. Iwent into Scotts for dinner. Again there was await to get a table. This time there was a womanwaiting with me. I guess that I got some encour-agement. At any rate, I asked her to have dinnerwith me. Later we went to a show. it made agood evening for me. After the show we took ataxi to her home. I did not know who was moredumfounded, she or the taxi hotel driver, when Isaid good night to her at her door and took thetaxi back to my In February, I spent a weekend inLondon. Sunday morning I attended a divineservice in St. Paul’s cathedral I was thrilled. Inspite of its’ covering of soot, it was a beautifulbuilding. The organ and choir were wonderful. Iwas not impressed by Westminster Abbey. Ithought that it looked crumby. However the ceil-ing of the Henry 5th chapel was unbelievable.The fretwork in stone looked to me to be impossi-

ble, even in wood.

In the afternoon, I went to Hyde Pan and GreenPark. Besides the speakers there was a model air-craft meet. Boys, with their fathers, had abouttwenty gas motor powered model planes. Theywere the first that I had seen. I was amazed athow the boys maneuvered them.

I closely examined one of the barrage balloons.Each balloon had a six wheel Ford truck onwhich was mounted a Fordson tractor motor towinch the balloon. In London there were hun-dreds of balloons.


Chapter 5: Aldershot

In January when I got back to barracks the othershad had a week to get organized. Training hadbegun in earnest. Training areas were allotted.People were going on courses. The whole ma-chinery went into gear quite well. It seemed thateveryone trained except me. I was the junior re-enforcement officer and whenever anyone wentaway I took his job. It was interesting but my for-mal military training suffered.

We shared the Tournai Barracks with the TorontoScottish Regiment. Again it is hard to realize con-ditions at that time. The Toronto Scottish were aposh peace time militia Battalion. From a largecentre they had a high percentage of people whowere reasonably trained. Their officers weremostly men of means. Their uniforms were beau-tifully tailored. Contrast that with our uncouthmob. There was hardly a single uniform in theSLI that fitted. We came from everywhere in theWest and very few of us knew anything about thearmy. The Toronto Scottish were sorely tried to beso near to us.

Right from the very first, our relations werestrained. Both Battalions had arrived in the bar-racks just before Christmas. As a part of their cel-ebrations the Toronto Scottish got several kegs ofbeer for their men. These were stored in a roomwhere they mounted a proper sentry. A SLI man,by the name of Near, knew about this beer. Some-how he got into the store of beer and carried outone keg, which he got the Toronto Scottish sentryto watch for him while he fetched a wheelbarrow.He actually got away with that keg of beer.

We had been sternly warned, before we leftSaskatoon, that this was to be a no nonsense war.We had a grim job to do and we had to do itwithout frills. So all of our band instruments andmost of our bandsmen had been left in Canada.The Toronto Scottish were much wiser and

brought their complete pipe band. Their day wasordered by the pipes. We came to think that theyplayed the pipe so that they could breathe in uni-son. We got heartily sick of the skin of the pipes.Imagine my disgust in October, 1945 when theBattalion returned to Saskatoon. We were met atthe station by the pipe band of the 2nd Battalionof SLI

Potts knew that we had a lot of training to do andhe laid on long hours. The day began for the offi-cers at 7 a.m., when we paraded for P.T. in thesnow in front of the Officers Mess. For a longtime it was dark at that hour and there was muchmuttering and mumbling. Maurice Dupuis madehis criticism in his own unique way by turningout one morning with a coal oil lantern. ButPottsey was there every morning and P.T. contin-ued at 7 a.m. as long as we were at Tournai.

The training day for the men finished at 4 p.m.when the officers had afternoon tea. This was aparade by which Potts intended to weld us to-gether. Tea was followed by a lecture period forofficers which lasted one hour. After that camethe evening meal and preparations for the nextday’s work.

I had three pet peeves at that time. One was thecold. I didn’t mind winter weather if I could justget warm once in awhile. But I actually felt moreuncomfortable indoors than out. I did not get ac-climatized until our second winter in England.

Two was the habit of the English to break for teaat 10a.m. and 4 p.m. That objection sounds amus-ing now. But in those days Canadians had not ac-quired the coffee break habit. I found it mostdisconcerting to be doing business with someonewho would suddenly disappear for tea. In fact, Ithought it frivolous. However, before long welearned that one could often transact businessbetter over a cup of tea.Three was the Army’s method of training. It


seemed to me to be so absurd to break everymovement down by numbers and to teach theboys as though they were stupid apes. It was mycontention that if they gave each one the pam-phlet and the weapon he would figure it out inthe same way that one had to do when con-fronted with a new implement on the farm. Itwas quite some time before I realized that in thearmy the effort of the individual counted for al-most nothing. The objective in the army was toconcentrate the efforts of literally millions of indi-viduals into one supreme effort.

The civilian had to stop thinking as a civilian andbe trained to think as a fellow ant. I agree withthe authorities that that process takes two yearstime; even with intelligent Canadian boys.

One of the first officers to go away on a coursewas Reg Rankin, the Intelligence Officer. I tookhis place. Under those circumstances the Intelli-gence Officer was really an assistant adjutant andAide de Camp to the Commanding Officer. Therewas a great deal of organizational work to do andI did get a wonderful opportunity to learn aboutthe organization.

Almost immediately on landing in England, Pottshad taken Phil Reynolds, Officer Commanding ofD Company, to be Adjutant and put Embury incommand of D Company. Phil was a quiet opera-tor and it was a pleasure to work under him. Hiswife, Jenny, followed us overseas and took ahouse in Farnborough. We officers spent manyhappy hours in their Farnborough home.

One of the first administrative problems aroseout of the take over of the barracks by the ad-vance party. Lt. R. Rankin had been in charge. Hehad been confronted with masses of documentsby the Aldershot Command people. Amongstthem was one itemizing barrack stores in the offi-cers mess. There was supposed to be a completeline of tableware sufficient to serve an Officer’s

Mess formal dinner. This document that Regsigned transferred all the losses since about thetime of the Crimean War to the SLI. Potts had an-other battle to fight in addition to the window-pane war.

That was an extremely cold winter by Englishstandards. The drains from the bathrooms wereall on the outside of the brick buildings. A routinewas soon established. Each morning the Quarter-master would ascertain the drains that hadfrozen during the night. He would phone the Ad-jutant’s office and either the Adjutant or I wouldphone the Command Engineers to have someonecome and fix the drains. One morning the officeof the Command Engineers asked to speak to ourCommanding Officer. Potts got on the phone andfound that he was speaking to the Commander ofthe Engineers. “Look here old boy, we’ll fix yourdrains this morning but after that you will haveto do it yourself.” Potts exploded. He had re-tained enough of his English accent that it wasnot a case of a “Bloody colonial” speaking to anEnglishman, but was one Englishman speakingto another. “If you people persist in being suchdamn fools as to put the drains on the outsideyou can bloody well bear the consequences.”One day we were assigned firing ranges to dorifle practice. Potts sent me out to reconnoiter theroute and range. I took a motorcycle. It was quitea pleasant day. On the way I found a green gro-cer. I bought some English grown apples. Theywere a bitter disappointment. All wormy andspoiled, only about half were fit to use.

Aldershot is a wonderful training area. In an areaabout fifteen miles square there are training facil-ities literally for an army. There are areas for ma-noeuvres. There are all sorts of firing ranges.Because so much is done in so small an areasafety margins are cut to a minimum. And theywork because, in the British Army, orders areobeyed. The ranges are used almost continuously.Different distances are accommodated in some


cases, by ranges crossing one another. I contactedthe range officer. Our allotted range was Ash No.4. I was shown the road into it. I made notesabout the road and range. I reported to the adju-tant. Nobody said anything to me about theCompany’s Commanders making a reconnais-sance. However, after the Company Com-mander’s meeting, at which my information wasgiven, the Company Commanders decided tohave a look themselves. One afternoon they allgot together on motorcycles and, in a little caval-cade, started out on their own to Ash No. 4 fol-lowing my route card. No one told the rangeofficer about it. It so happened that an Englishmachine gun battalion was doing an indirectshoot with their Vickers. Our Company Com-manders just entered a wooded area as it wasblanketed with a machine gun barrage. The mo-torcycles were soon deserted for what protectionthe bole of a tree could offer.

Except for some minor damage to the motorcy-cles, the party emerged unscathed. But I was notvery popular. I am sure that that episode wouldhave severed my connection with the Battalionwere it not for Potts and McKerron. McKerronwas a 1914-18 Veteran. I believe that that barragerevived memories and that he actually enjoyed it.At any rate I had been on the roll of A Company.Shortly after that I was transferred to B Companycommanded by Maj. Drayton Walker.

One of our great trials, on arriving in England,was getting accustomed to the blackouts. Our in-terpretation of a good blackout quite often didnot meet with the approval of the air raid war-den. Vehicles charging about on a black darknight, with only pin points of lights showingfrom their headlamp, made driving very difficult.Amongst the anti-invasion preparations hugeconcrete roadblocks were constructed throughoutthe country. One night Pte. Rice, a Dispatch Riderof ACompany, was riding his motorcycle. Hecame to two red lights on the road. He drove be-

tween them, headlong into a concrete block. Hebroke both legs. In 1947, I saw him in Vancouver.Before the war he had been a bank inspector. Hisbank hesitated to entrust him with his former re-sponsibilities because of his physical condition.His case is typical of the many such sacrifices thatwere made in this period.

During the first month rations caused a greatdeal of trouble. The scale of issue was tremen-dous in comparison with what we lived on twoyears later. But the cooks were inexperienced andoften food was wasted by being poorly cooled.Some rations were stolen. Whatever the reasonthe men often did not get enough to eat and theycomplained bitterly. However, this was eventu-ally straightened out.

Recreation was slowly organized. Aldershot haslong been an army area. The civilians there hadall their fill of soldiers and certainly were not im-pressed by the Canadians. Although there wereno real incidents, our reaction to Aldershot, afterbeing their four months was that it might not be abad idea to let Hitler have the place.

One habit of the local inhabitants that particu-larly annoyed me was their insistence on payingbus fares. We depended on the public transportfor our recreational trips. Coming back to the bar-racks was nearly always on the last bus of thenight. It would be a double deck bus, with adriver and ticket collector. The blackout wasstrict. The bus, both seats and aisles, would bejammed. The ticket collector would get stuck inthe upper aisle. The civilians would refuse to getoff until they had paid their fare and we wouldbe worrying about the time that we would bechecking into the barracks.

The Theatre Royal in Aldershot staged live pro-ductions. The management soon learned that abit of music and a couple nudes would fill thehouse with Canadians. That lasted for about one


month after which we began to demand some tal-ent. One show of this period featured a snakecharmer. A nude woman had a snake coil itselfabout her. That show disgusted me. MauriceDupuis was entranced by the snake charmer.

Through Potts’ direction we officers joined theAldershot Officer’s Club. They had a cut rate forabout 12 shillings per month. Any time that Iwent there the place was full of Canadians andmuch too crowded. That was really a bit of wind-fall for the Aldershot Club. In 1942 when I waswith the Holding Unit, I did attend one bang upfunction there which I enjoyed. Any other timethat I belonged I considered it to be moneythrown away. In September 1945, when we wereon our way home, I dropped in there one after-noon to see if I would recognize anyone. Therewere a half dozen Limey officers who behavedvery much as though I had the measles. I felt likesmashing up the joint to work out my money.

One day I was in the office alone when Col. Mc-Cusker, the Senior Div. Medical Officer, droppedin with five invitations to a tea that Lady Some-body was holding on Sunday. When Potts cameback he was feeling quite magnanimous and hetold me to distribute them in the Mess. I kept oneand gave the others to Rankin, de Faye, Fullertonand Dawe. We had a bit of trouble finding theright place. It was a large country home. Theroom in which the tea was held was about threetimes the size of the Hall in Fiske. There werecheck rooms for the clothing, etc. It turned outthat the guests included the King and Queen ofSiam, Princess Patricia Ramsey, the Naval At-tache’ to the American Ambassador and so on.Lady Somebody else, who had three eligibledaughters there, invited us to visit her in herLondon house. On the whole we were a bit over-whelmed. Tommy dated the girl from the checkroom. But when we got back to the Mess we laidit on to Pottsey as to what he had missed.The intellectuals in our Battalion were Ben Allen,

Fred Dawe, and Reg Rankin. I think that eachhad his Master’s degree. They had bull sessionsnearly every night. Sometimes I would sit aroundand listen. But usually they were beyond mydepth. One favorite topic was “fixing” the posi-tion of a machine gun on the ground by means ofthe stars.

Our affiliated Regiment in the British Army wasthe King’s Own Yorkshire Light Infantry(KOYLI). Early in our stay in Tournai Barracksthe Colonel of the KOYLI, General Sir CharlesDeedes, visited our Battalion. He inspected ourranks on parade and spoke briefly to the Battal-ion. Afterwards the officers gathered in the Messwhere they were presented to Sir Charles. Thenthe General took a KOYLI lanyard and placed itabout Potts’ neck and expressed the wish that ourBattalion should adopt the KOYLI dress regula-tions. It was a great honour for our Battalion andfew appreciated the honour as much as Potts did.I have never seen anyone so genuinely moved ormore pleased.

After the proper authorities had given permis-sion, our Battalion adopted the lanyard, buttonsand green color of the King’s Own YorkshireLight Infantry. Quite a minor detail to a civilian.It was really a tremendous influence in the build-ing up and maintenance of morale in our Battal-ion.

Phil Reynolds went on leave for a week and Itook over as Adjutant. One day I just got seatedin the office after noon, when a Major Guy Si-monds came in. I don’t think that I have everseen anyone anywhere in such a livid rage. Heliterally radiated hate and anger. He wanted toknow where Potts was. I told him. When Pottscame back he was to get in touch with Simondsat Div. Headquarters immediately. Simonds wasthe officer at Div. Headquarters in charge oftraining of the three machine gun battalions.The Aldershot Command could train nearly a


whole army at once. But that was only possiblebecause of careful planning and a high rate of uti-lization of the facilities. The rifle ranges were inuse throughout the hours of daylight. Meals hadto be so arranged that firing was continuous. Itseems that, on this day, Simonds had decided tohave a look at how the SLI were doing, “D” Com-pany was at the ranges. He arrived there at noon.

Embury was Officer Commanding D Company.He deliberately set out to ingratiate himself withthe Officers and Non Commissioned Officers ofhis Company. He had quite properly arranged tohave the noon meal brought out for the men. Buthe wasn’t having his officers and Non Commis-sioned Officer’s treated like that. At 12 o’clockthe rifles were stacked. The food was served tothe men. He left the Company in charge of alance Corporal, ball ammunition and all, loadedofficers and Non Commissioned Officers intrucks and went back to barracks to eat like de-cent human beings. Then Simonds arrived at therange.

Potts was a long time at Div. Headquarters thatevening. When he came back he told me to pub-lish PT I orders transferring Embury back as Ad-jutant. There were further long conferences thenext day and the day following I had to rescindthe previous day’s orders. Embury stayed with DCompany but now he really was in the doghouse.

Most of every Saturday morning was taken up bythe Commanding Officer’s inspection of bar-racks. I was always on that with RSM Quinn.Potts had dug up a great silver cup which wasawarded each week for the week to the Companywhich he considered to have the neatest lines.After the range episode, D Company didn’t havea chance. It was nearly a month later when Pottshad chosen ACompany as the winner.On this Saturday morning I was sure that DCompany was the best. When we got into the or-

derly room Potts announced ACompany thewinner. I think what followed was characteristicof Potts’ method of command. Certainly it was ofmy relationship with him. Potts said ACompany.I felt no qualms in speaking up and saying that Ithought he was wrong and that I would choose DCompany. Without a moment’s hesitation heturned to the RSM. What did he think? The RSMthought that D Company was the best. Againwithout hesitation he turned to me and said, “Al-right Mitchell, D Company,” and he actually waspleased about giving D Company the honour. Heheld no grudges.

Shortly after Rankin got back MacDonald, thetransport officer, went on a course for a month.So I became transport officer. Transport at thattime consisted mostly of impressed civilian vehi-cles of all makes. One was never quite sure howlong they would run. And the intricacies of anEnglish made motor were quite a discovery forour boys.

The transport boys were a grand lot. MacDonaldwas not a very regimental type. His section werejust a team of pals. I did not quite fit in but theywere a good lot. One of my first days there, oneof the drivers told of his experience the eveningbefore. He had met this girl once before. She wasreally lovely stuff. So he dated her for theevening and some might say his intentions werenot the best. He went to her home where he metMom and Pop. Just when he was wondering howhe was going to handle the situation, the girl sug-gested that they go for a walk. Fine. Only thingwrong was that he was strange to the countryand she knew it intimately. She kept telling himof all the wonderful sights and they walked andwalked and walked till they had covered tenmiles. This was after a full day’s parade. Whenthe walk had ended all that he could think ofwere his feet.The T. Office was in the same building and rightnext the RQM office. Capt. Archie Gray looked


after me like a father. He corrected the way Iwore my uniform. He corrected my posture. Heinstructed me in the ways of the army. One day Ihad a Non Commissioned Officer to break. Thefellow was unreliable and in my language “justno damn good.” Archie showed me the militarylanguage “Not likely to develop into a goodNCO.”

Archie was a grand fellow. He should never havegone overseas. He was a First War Veteran. Andhe had done yeoman service with the Non Per-manent Active Militia Battalion. He wasn’t physi-cally fit. Some papers must have been altered abit just to give Archie the trip overseas with theBattalion as a reward for his faithful peace timeservice.

One Sunday morning, Archie and I were detailedto take the church parade. Those moments werereally the highlights of his life. This morning hetook over the parade from the RSM. In his thickScots accent “Parade will move to the right in col-umn of route, right.” This was the First War Com-mand. Nothing happened. Archie flushed andgave the order again. At the right moment Iadded the word “turn” and we were away.

One day I was working on some papers in theTransport office and Archie came striding in. Ijumped up and saluted. “Come with me!” andArchie turned and strode out of the office. Archiewas in a terrible mood. I followed him. We wentto the Commanding Officer’s office. Both Pottsand Reynolds were seated at their desks whenArchie and I paraded in. I still hadn’t the foggiestnotion of what was up. Archie was so angry thathis brogue was very bad. Slowly I gathered thathe had checked the barrack stoves in the men’smess hall and discovered that there was one coalburning stove missing. On enquiring he was toldthat I had taken it.Nearly ten days before I had been in the shedthat the Transport boys used as a shop. It was a

plain corrugated iron structure with a concretefloor. There was no heat. It was unbearable foranyone to work in the cold on the vehicles. TheTransport Sgt. told me that he had been talkingabout this to the Sgt. Cook. The Sgt. Cook saidthat there were four coal heaters in the men’smess hail and only three were ever used. Ithought it was a good idea so we went over tosee the Sgt. Cook. “Sure take the stove.” So I toldthe Transport Sgt. to move the stove. Which hedid. They had to cut a hole in the corrugated ironfor the smoke pipe. The smoke pipe was cast ironand in eight foot lengths. They had to cut one ofthem. But they got the stove working and every-body was happy until Archie made his monthlycheck of barrack stores.

Both Potts and Reynolds were amused byArchie’s anger. Their faces were very stern but asthe story unfolded a twinkle came into their eyes.When Archie finished Potts spoke to me.“Mitchell is that right?” “Yes Sir.” “Put the stoveback.” “But sir I can’t. They cut the pipes.” “Putthe stove back, that is all,” and he banged thetable.

Archie and I marched out. I told the TransportSgt. to get a new pipe from the iron monger andput the stove back. It cost me £1, 10s.

Sometime later Archie went to hospital. I visitedwith him in Connaught hospital several times.He was touched to think that I, the junior officerof the Battalion should think of him. EventuallyArchie was sent back to Canada. He was the firstto return. The officer’s wives in Saskatoon hadformed an association to console themselves a bit.Of course Archie had to talk to them as did eachreturning officer. Amongst other things Archietold one officer’s wife what a fine boy her manwas. The other officers were chasing around Eng-land after all sorts of girls but her man only wentout with one girl and she was really lovely.


My biggest headache, at the Transport Office,was motorcycles and especially when officerswere using them. The worst offender was Mau-rice Dupuis. One day I happened to go out to thetraining area and encountered Maurice riding amotorcycle. He had no business to have it. Hewas just tearing around the area with it. When Isaw him he was riding through the trees. In thisspot there was no underbrush and the trees wereabout six feet apart and staggered. Maurice rodethrough them at quite a speed. It was really a featbut one that could only lead to disaster, from mypoint of view. I reported this to Potts and Mau-rice was barred from using motorcycles alto-gether. Part of our barrack stores included Airraid equipment. In this equipment was a bicycle.Maurice got this bicycle out and rode it aroundthe lines for hours on end just for Potts’ sake. Hecould do almost anything with it. What I thoughtwas the best exhibition was when he rode the bi-cycle sitting backwards, on the handlebars, andhe crossed a three inch hose lying on the pave-ment without touching the hose.

Maurice was a very clever person. He was also aslave to alcohol. It was a great pity. He could besuch a fine fellow. One evening at JennyReynold’s house he was the life of the party witha two string toy instrument that belonged to thelittle girl next door.

One night, after a bout of drinking, Maurice de-cided to take a bath at about midnight. The bath-room on his floor was just across the hall fromPotts’ room. Maurice got into the bathroom anddecided that he did not want to be disturbed, sohe locked the door. I don’t suppose that the lockhad ever before been used. At any rate it stuckand at 2 a.m., when Maurice had finished soak-ing in the tub, he couldn’t get the door open. Sohe yelled and roused Potts. They couldn’t get thedoor open, so Potts took the fire axe out of itsglass case and chopped the door open. Maurice’smodesty caused more amusement than anything

else about the episode.

Not long after this we were in the midst of a se-ries of after tea lectures on machine gunning.Maurice got horribly drunk that afternoon. In themidst of the lecture he got sick. Without a wordto anyone he jumped out of the window. He wenton to his room and never said anything to any-one. Potts was present at the time. That was theend of Maurice. He had literally jumped out ofthe Battalion.

Quite characteristically of the army, just afterMacdonald, the Transport Officer, went off on hislong course to learn how the Army wanted driv-ers to drive, I, the acting Transport Officer, wascalled on to organize training for the drivers. Ouronly transport were two dozen impressed vehi-cles and some motor cycles. But we were to trainand classify our drivers so that we would beready to properly use our regular transport whenit was issued.

I am neither a good mechanic nor a good driver.But I had once taken a short course on farm me-chanics. Using that as the plan to follow andadding map reading and a bit on march disci-pline, we were away. We had five separate sub-jects and we rounded up quite a competentgroup of instructors in each. We had one hundredand twenty-five drivers to train. They had train-ing in military subjects as well. It was all inte-grated into a master plan by Major McKerron. AsI recall it, our “course” lasted three weeks. At theend of the course we had the various instructorsgive a series of tests and then Lts. Walsh, Rankinand myself took each driver out with a truck andrated his driving ability and his ability to read amap. One aftermath of this came six months later,when I was transferred to a platoon in the “C”Company. The driver mechanic of the platoonwas a L/Cpl Green. Off parade the first day Ioverhead Green telling a buddy - “There is theSOB who thinks that l am a third class driver.”


One night towards the end of our course we helda night convoy. We had nineteen motorcyclesmanned by Dispatch Riders. The boys had sometwenty trucks in fit shape to make the trip, whichwas to be of some thirty miles. All of the trip wasto be made with the strictest blackout discipline.We had no need for so many Dispatch Riders, buteveryone had been training enthusiastically andwe did not like to ground anyone.

So we took every vehicle that would run. It wasthe climax of our course and I asked Col. Potts ifhe would like to make the trip to see how theboys were doing. He would. Everything startedout beautifully. We got to a railway underpass atFleet where we were to make a turn. I got a miledown the turn and a Dispatch Rider came tearingup to say that we had lost half of our column.The Dispatch Rider on point duty at that turnhad miscounted the vehicles and in his eagernessto be on his bike had left his station too soon.

In the blackout it took us an hour or more to re-trieve our vehicles. Shortly after we had com-pleted our “course” for the drivers Macdonaldthe Transport Officer came back from his course.He knew what the army expected of a driver butthat phase of training had been passed and hewas never given the opportunity to train thedrivers that I had had.

The Colonel-in-Chief of the King’s Own York-shire Light Infantry, our affiliated regiment, wasthe Duchess of York who became Queen Eliza-beth, wife of George VI. She inspected our battal-ion on 8 April, 1940. King George had driventhrough our ranks very informally shortly afterwe had arrived in England. The Queen’s visitwas our first official recognition after we had hadan opportunity to train. It was a tremendousevent in the story of our Battalion. There was spitand polish with a vengeance for a few days.

Her Majesty inspected our Battalion on Queen’sParade between Aldershot and Farnborough.Then we did a “march past”. After the “MarchPast” we officers fell out and were whisked backto our quarters where we quickly changed intoservice dress uniform. Then we were posed onthe lawn by the official photographer so that wewere already when Her Majesty arrived. She satdown and the pictures were taken. Then each ofus were presented to Her Majesty. After that shehad lunch with the senior officers of our Battalionand the Toronto Scottish.

Potts had spent a great deal of time and thoughtpreparing for the Queen’s visit. He had beenmost meticulous about the dress of the officers.For the picture, our Service Dress must include adark coloured khaki dress shirt. Some of us didnot have that particular type and it was withsome difficulty that we got them all the same.

When the picture was developed there was Pottswearing a light coloured khaki shirt. During the“March Past”, when doing “Eyes Right”, I hadnoticed tears in Her Majesty’s eyes That evening,in the Mess, I told Potts about it. Very gruffly, hereplied, “Yes I know.” The Queen made a tremen-dous impression. She was so genuine. So inter-ested in everyone, so gentle, so deeply concernedabout the web of events which had enmeshed allof us.

Toward spring, I began to get my fill of people.Everywhere that I turned there were so many. Iwanted to get away by myself for a few hours sothat I could sort out my thoughts and get a betterperspective. If only I could have ridden aroundmy pasture fence!

On Sunday I went, by myself, for a walk alongthe Basingstoke Canal. I found a secluded spotand laid down in the sun. In the hour or so that Iwas there at least one hundred people stoppedand peered at me. Aman lying in the brush


alone, was really something in England.My second leave was Easter week which I spentin London. I attended one of the “off time” serv-ices in St. Pauls’. I was very disappointed. Myreal thrill was hearing Sir Thomas Beecham con-ducting the London Philharmonic Orchestra andChoir as they performed Handel’s “Messiah”. Itwas in Albert Hall. There was a pipe organ aswell. The performance was marvelous. Equallyimpressive was the sight of at least half of thegreat audience following the musical score as itwas being played.

One Sunday, early in April, Potts laid on an ex-cursion to the sea coast for the whole Battalion.We used all of our impressed vehicles and tooknearly everyone to the seaside town of Little-hampton, which was quite deserted at that timeof the year. It was not much of a day there, butthe trip through the countryside was wonderful.In my memory lives a most beautiful picture ofpeaceful England. As we crossed the hogsback atGuildford, that sunny Sunday morning, we cameupon a little ivy covered stone church sittingunder the beeches and surrounded by the Crociistrewn green fields. The church bell was ringingand from all directions people were walking intwos and three times to the church. It is the hap-piest and most peaceful memory that I have ofEngland.

“Oh to be in England now that April is here.”

After Dunkirk, where there was a real possibilityof a German invasion, normal tolling of churchbells was stopped. The tolling of the bells was towarn everyone that the invasion had begun.During this time in Tournai we developed somevery definite routines. The BBC news at nooncame at 12:30 just as we ate in the Officer’s mess.

Weston the biscuit manufacturer, had given ourBattalion some portable battery radios. Potts al-ways carried one of these radios into the mess

which he switched on for the news. Those werethe days when the “phoney” war gave way to theover running of France, We officers were fre-quently packed off to various meetings wheresome visiting general from the CIGS downwould address us. Time and again we were toldthat the “Boche has missed the boat.” “By not fin-ishing off France before the onset of winter theGermans had missed their opportunity to winand given us time to prepare.” This line was con-tinued until the spring offensive made it ridicu-lous.

I can still feel those tragic electric moments wheneach day, the news would tell of some fresh dis-aster. At first we were casual and philosophical.But as army after army was swept aside it be-came unbelievable. When the news was finishedPotts would shut off the radio. For a moment,everyone would sit, silent with his own thoughts.Then, to break the spell, Potts would jump upand, with a great commotion, leave with hisradio. Work was the great comforter.


Chapter 6: Bulford Camp

During April we, and the Toronto Scottish, spenta month doing field firing and training on Salis-bury Plains. Our camp was at Bulford. We livedin tents. A great portion of the time rain fell and itwas most disagreeable. We lived under Britisharmy conditions. Some things seemed so sense-less. I can still see the chief instructor’s hands,one cold wet day. He had us out in the opendoing some training. During all the time hishands were bare and a blue black in colour, fromthe cold. For some reason he did not wear glovesand it seemed so stupid to me.Nearby was the town of Amesbury. One Sunday,Vergne and I walked over there and stopped in ata tea house for refreshment. I casually1asked forice cream. I can still hear the waitress’s retort.“Where do you think you are - in London?”

Near Amesbury the RAF had an experimental airstation. They had some ninety different kinds ofaeroplanes. The Halifax and Lancaster bomberswere a revelation to me. It was incredible thatsuch huge things could be lifted off the ground.

I was on B Company’s strength. I had not doneany training with the Company at Farnboroughso I more or less tagged along with my platoon.As always happens, the platoon sergeant carriedthe load. The chief instructor, one day, quizzedme quite closely. I had spent my spare winter mo-ments with the pamphlet. I guess I had memo-rized some parts. At any rate this instructor, whohad written the pamphlet, was overwhelmed bygetting the text back, verbatim.

The two Battalions trained separately under thesame staff of the Netheravon Small Arms School.The climax of the period was to be a shootingcompetition between the two Battalions. Duringthe training, the Company, the platoon and thesection, with the best firing record was chosen torepresent each Battalion.

That was one of the most memorable days in thehistory of our Battalion. Many explanations aregiven depending on whether the speaker isToronto Scottish or Saskatchewan. LI.

The competition was held on a six hundred yardrange. On a sand embankment, six hundredyards away, were a dozen or so steel plates whichwould bounce when hit with the bullets. It was aclear dry day and there was a gala spirit in theair. Both Battalions had trained very hard. Eachwere determined to demonstrate their merits.

Major McKerron was a machine gun officer in theFirst War. The evening before the shoot, he veryquietly took the Armourer Sgt. and the twelvemachine guns to be used, off to a range wherethey zeroed the sights. No one in the TorontoScottish Camp thought to do so. That is a pointthat is rarely mentioned. The Toronto Scottishthought that zeroing the guns was not quitecricket. The instructional staff on the school werevery happy to find that our Battalion was so com-petent. We were training for war. At any rate theactual competition was begun on terms that werenot quite even.

For the competition the guns and stores were laidout on the ground, dismantled. The gun crew, onthe command to begin, ran thirty yards, pickedup stores, ran another thirty yards, and went intoaction. The first to hit the plates won. I havenever attended a sporting event anywhere whenthe competitive spirit and excitement was higher.It was a very thrilling occasion. Company, pla-toon, section, Officers, Sgts, and Cpls. TheSaskatchewan. LI won every event. It was a com-plete route.After that period of training the Saskatchewan.LI. was chosen as the Machine Group Battalionfor the 1st Division. The Toronto Scottish wereslated for the 2nd Division. It was a wonderfulfinish to a hard cruel winter.


There was an aftermath to this famous “shoot”which had a very bad effect on the Saskatchewan.LI. After the successful shoot, Potts very properlypraised all ranks for the tremendous effort thathad been made in the winter training. He usedthe results of the shoot as proof of the superior ef-fort that our Battalion had made. This was re-peated so often that everyone, even the Companycommanders, came to believe it implicitly. Withsome people it might not have mattered. But ourSecond in command, Maj. McKerron, was ex-tremely sensitive about his achievements. He hadbeen the officer in charge of training throughoutthe winter but of course each Company Com-mander had been personally responsible for hisown Company and was not too anxious to sharethe credit. Then this personal contribution ofMcKerron’s, in zeroing the guns, was casuallyoverlooked even by Potts. I think that it was amajor factor in undermining McKerron’s ego.

Nearby to Bulford camp was a British A.T.S.training camp. On the last Tuesday that we wereat Bulford, the A.T.S. staged a dance in our hon-our. We supplied the liquor. The A.T.S. lookedafter everything else. The Battalion had a grandevening.

One of the A.T.S. staff was Captain Gilmour. Herhusband was a lieutenant in the ColdstreamGuards. Capt. Gilmour’s mother was Mrs.Christie-Miller who owned the nearby ClarendonEstate. Mrs. Christie-Miller invited the officers ofour Battalion to have tea with her on the follow-ing Sunday.

The Clarendon Estate is the original estate of theDuke of Clarendon. It comprised of eight thou-sand acres. About the time of William the Con-queror, the king established a hunting park there.He built a huge castle - larger than Windsor Cas-tle - as a hunting lodge. The Duke of Clarendongot his “start” as the keeper of His Majesty’shunting estate. The old castle is in ruins. The

newer house of the Duke is a mile away from theruins. Part of it was built in 1540. The newer partwas built in 1850.

It was a long stone building, rather plain set on abeautifully grassed terrace. It was partly hiddenby wistaria which was in full bloom. A couple ofcedars guarded the house. Behind was a formalgarden. The grass out in clear cut patterns. Theyew trees were carefully trimmed. All thegrounds were thick woods. Off the grounds, inthe shelter of the tree there was a swimming poolwith a thatch roofed bath house. From there youbus to see, about half a mile away, an artificiallake that was stocked with speckled trout. MajorMcKerron, our fisherman, caught two thatweighed a pound and half each.

The most beautiful sight was the wild flower gar-den. It was in, what was called, a small coulee inamongst the trees. There must have been aboutacres in the garden. There was a variety of trees.There were oaks, pines poplars , beeches andmore than I could name. Each was growing in anatural setting but each was placed so that its’neighbor enhanced the other’s beauty. Inamongst these trees, again in natural settings,were clumps of rhodendrons, magnolias, and lit-erally dozens of other varieties of blooms in allshades. Again the colour harmony was perfect. Ihave seen very few pictures that even very faintlyresembled such a scene.

Mrs. Christie-Miller had thirty evacuee childrenin her house. They were dressed colourfully andwere playing in the garden.

We had tea and a “scotch” in the house. It wascentred around a large foyer into which led ahuge staircase. There was a leopard skin rug infront, of the hearth. There were oil paintings,suits of armours, and very old bits of furniture,The huge dining room was closed and filled withstored furniture.


The place reeked with tradition. Two of the oaktrees on the place are listed in the Dooms DayBook. Nelsons’ ship, the Victory, is said to havebeen built from timbers cut on the grounds. Butthe most remarkable feature is quite recent. The“coulee” was infested with brambles twentyyears before. The wild flower garden was the cre-ation of Mrs. Christie-Miller. Her husband hadbeen killed in WWI. Her son had to leave beforethe end of our tea to report to his Guards Regi-ment.


Chapter 7: We Start On Our Way To War

We returned to Tournai Barracks. There were atremendous number of refugees being broughtinto Britain from the continent. It was known thatfifth columnists were amongst the refugees. As aprecaution the 1st Canadian Div. was moved intoNorthamptonshire to be in the area where therefugees were being sheltered. B. Company, withthe 2nd Canadian Infantry Brigade, moved toKettering. I was in charge of the advance partyfor B Company. Pearkes commanded the Brigade.Keller was the Brigade Major and Gostling wasthe Deputy Assistant Adjutant and Quartermas-ter General. I reported to Gostling in the policestation at Kettering. The city was divided up bycity blocks for each unit. B Company were allot-ted two residential blocks. After our briefingfrom the Army, the Chief of Police told us tocome to him if we had any trouble. This was inthe morning. The Brigade were due to arrive dur-ing that night.

I at out to our area and found a very hospitablelot of people in very modest homes. One ladytold me she wanted the officers to billet with her.So that was that. Every other place every person,without exception, said how glad they were thatthe Canadians were coming, but that they justdidn’t have any room to spare. I talked to everyhouseholder. Then I went back to the police sta-tion. The Chief instructed the constable normallyon duty in my area, to help me. He knew everyhouseholder. I told him how many billets Ineeded and he figured out exactly where eachwas to go. Then we went from door to door. Hedid all the talking. “Good afternoon Mrs. Doe.You shall have two Canadians to billet tonight.Good day!”

At every place there were protests, but the con-stable never heard them. In two hours time wehad our Company all arranged for.

The Company actually arrived at about four a.m.We arranged for breakfast at 9 a.m. and the firstparade at 10 a.m. Then everyone bedded down intheir billets. I was prepared for a storm of com-plaints on that first parade. This was our firstcontact with the normal Britisher. It was the firsttime out of the atmosphere of Aldershot. I wasthinking in terms of what would happen inCanada were a bunch of foreign troops forcedonto Canadian householders.

There was not a single complaint. I was amazedand questioned the boys. It turned out that atleast half of them had been served tea in bed bytheir hosts and nearly one third had had an eggor something else to eat. When we had left Alder-shot, we were almost prepared to leave Englandand let Hitler have the country. We were ab-solutely fed up with the Englishmen we met inthe Aldershot area. But the ordinary Britisher,that we met in his own home, completely over-whelmed us. It was almost a shock treatment.Certainly any Canadian who was in Englandfrom May to August in 1940, formed many verydear friendships and fell in love with the country.

The move into the Northampton area had beenby Brigade groups. After a short time there, wewere scheduled to go to France. TheSaskatchewan. LI were to regroup as a Battalionand move to Louisberg Barracks in Borden. Potts,with Reynolds, and Rankin, had been taken fromthe Battalion temporarily to head up anotherforce while we were in the Northampton area.Maj. McKerron was in command of theSaskatchewan. LI with Percy Klaehn as Adjutant.I was called into the Battalion Head Quarters asacting Intelligence Officer.

The order for us to move to Louisberg Barracksreached Battalion headquarters from Div. Head-quarters at about 1800 hours. Of course, by theBattalion grapevine, it soon spread to the wholeBattalion. The procedure for the official order still


sticks in my mind. After the Battalion had been inaction in Italy for six months, such a move wouldhave hardly caused a second thought.

On this particular evening, Maj. McKerron, theacting Commanding Officer, was dining out.Percy and I did not think it necessary to call himin as we knew he would be back by 2000 hoursand the Battalion move was not until 0600 hoursthe next day. We got out our maps and pamphletsand proceeded to draught the move order for theBattalion. By 2000 hours we had it all typed,ready for the Commanding Officer’s approval.McKerron did not turn up until 2100 hours andhe did not approve of what we had done at all.We got down to business again. The DispatchRiders delivered the move order to the last Com-pany by 0500 hours. Of course by that time, theywere ready to move.

Potts and the others rejoined the Battalion atLouisberg. We were very bus, checking stores.Everyone was given a short leave. By this timethere was a very real invasion scare developing.For the first time everyone was sent on leavefully equipped so that, in case of emergency, hewould do his bit wherever he happened to be.

Seven years later, I learned of an incident thathappened at this time. Reynolds was Command-ing Officer of the Reserve Battalion and hadasked me to explore the possibility of organizinga Company in the Rosetown and Kindersley area.I was in Kindersley sounding out local opinion.As I walked down the street of Kindersley, incivvies, a man, also in civvies, gave me a verysmart salute. Without thinking I returned thesalute. After a dozen paces I realized how sillythe whole thing was. I turned about and followedthe man into the Legion Clubroom. There Ilearned that he was Forbes, who had been withthe Battalion. I told him of my mission. He volun-teered to help me in any way that he could withone exception - he would not join. “You will do

anything except carry a rifle.” “What do youknow about a rifle?’’ “Oh, not very much.” “Youknow I didn’t think that anyone knew about itbut it seems the whole army does.”

By this time I was aware that he had a story. Aftersuitable priming he told it. He had gone on leavefrom Louisberg. One evening he was in a pubwith his rifle slung over his shoulder. He was theonly soldier in the pub at the time. He got into anargument with the “limey’s”. Something wassaid about the Canadians that enraged him.Without a thought he grabbed his rifle andloaded it. At gun point he forced everyone out ofthe building. “I’d have drilled the first SOB thatopened his mouth.” Then, all alone in the pub, herealized what he had done.

As quickly as he could he rejoined the Battalion.Of course he was back before his leave had ex-pired. RSM Quinn put two and two together, andgreeted him with an admonition to be carefulabout what he did with his rifle in the future.

The time approached when we were to embark.On the last night that we were together, the offi-cers had an informal stag party in the mess. Wedrank toasts to everyone, praising the singularvirtues of each. The next morning McKerron leftwith the advance party and put their vehicles onboard ship at Plymouth. They were just going onboard themselves, when they got orders to taketheir vehicles off again. France had been givenup. What a terrible demoralizing time! We werenot given much time to think about it.

In a way that was perhaps the most fortuitousthing that happened to 1st Canadian Divisionduring the war. We were horribly unprepared forwar. I have no doubt, had we moved into a statictheatre, that we would have very quickly learnedthe ropes. But to have landed in France, when thesituation was fluid, would have been an experi-ence too horrible to imagine. The fortunes of war


gave us time to train so that, when we did contactthe enemy, we were considered among the best ofthe shock troops.


Chapter 8: The Defence of Britain

The 1st Canadian Division was moved into theOxford area where we went under canvas. Forthe move I was attached to Division for trafficcontrol duty. We assembled beforehand and re-mained on duty until the whole Division hadmoved.

When I rejoined the Battalion I found that a Re-connaissance Troop had been formed in the Bat-talion and that I was to command it. This wasone of McNaughton’s ideas. There was a greatpossibility of an invasion both by sea or by air.Fifth columnists were especially feared. The Re-connaissance Troop consisted of 40 all ranks whowere mounted on motorcycles and equippedwith Bren and Thompson Sub Machine guns.They were to reach any point quickly and be pre-pared for anything.

The Reconnaissance Troop had been organizedbefore the Battalion left Louisberg Barracks.Bobby Irvine had been given to understand thathe was Officer Commanding. Some misunder-standing developed over a pass and Potts an-nounced that I was to be Officer Commandingwith Bobby as Second in command. I had nomi-nally qualified in Saskatoon but nothing hadcome through Pt II orders. I was still wearing onepip. Bobby had qualified and served for some-time as a full lieutenant in the Non PermanentActive Militia with the Regina Rifles. He hadcome to the Saskatchewan. LI with the draft fromthe Regina Rifles that joined us just before we leftSaskatoon.

Potts had laid on that each Company Com-mander was to transfer a Non Commissioned Of-ficer and some men to form the nucleus of theReconnaissance Troop. He was explicit that theyshould not be cast offs. On the whole they were agood lot. Naturally the Non commissioned offi-cers transferred were not the best trained of each

Company. A couple of them had been demotedfor some misdemeanor and were being given asecond chance by this transfer. Sgt. Edelman,who was Troop Sgt. was transferred from Reg’tProvost. He was a good man but had very littlemilitary training. I did not even know anythingabout modern infantry section leading.

Commanding the Reconnaissance Troop was onejob that I should have refused and I consider it tohave been a mistake on Pott’s part to have meput in the position that he did. Finally the Recon-naissance Troop nearly broke my heart. Lookingback now I can see that I was very lucky to havegotten out of it as easily as I did.

The Reconnaissance Troop had a very importantjob to do. So important that within the year allthe Reconnaissance Troops were gathered to-gether and formed into a Reconnoiter Battalion -P.L.D.G.’s under Lt. Col. Harry Foster -a crackcavalry officer. The Reconnaissance TroopSaskatchewan. LI. should have been commandedby a trained officer.

My first problem - my relations with Bobby Ir-wine was resolved by Embury claiming him forhis Company. They were very close friends.Bobby and I were not suited to each other and thecircumstances surrounding the creation of the Re-connaissance Troop made things worse. On civvystreet Bobby worked in a department store. Hewas a glib organization man -- the kind of persona farmer suspects of relying on his tongue tocarry him rather than actual performance. Actu-ally, later on, Bobbie served on Brigade staff andwas considered a valuable man.

I had barely gotten myself settled in my ~w jobwhen the Battalion was ordered to move to theChipstead area. I was to command the advanceparty. The advance party consisted of one Cplfrom each Company and Battalion Headquarters.We had one truck. We were to put the Battalion


into more or less permanent quarters under can-vas in the area. The first thing that I looked forwas water. Then there had to be room so that thetents could be concealed. There had to be goodstanding and concealment for the tracks. Wedrove around the area allotted to us and the spotsseemed reasonably obvious. I contacted the own-ers. As in Kettering everyone was so pleased tohave the Canadians come but they simply couldnot have them on their property.

I can still see one chap. He was the manager ofthe Head Office of an Insurance Company. TheirHead Office building was in the centre of quite alarge estate. There was a large expanse of greengrass. A good gravel driveway bisected it andwent around the back. Lovely shade trees linedeach side of the driveway. At regular intervalswere water faucets, located conveniently to waterthe grass. What a natural! That manager used allthe powers of persuasion at his disposal trying toconvince me that his property was not suitable.

We had arrived at Chipstead in the morning. TheBattalion was to due arrive at 1800 hours. It wasgetting well on into the afternoon and we had notbeen welcomed anywhere. So we sat down anddisposed the Battalion. I don’t remember all ofthe Company’s but we put C Company on thedriveway in front of the Insurance Building andACompany back of it. Battalion Headquartersand Reconnaissance Troop went into pasturefields near Chipstead Church. We did an excel-lent job of picking Company areas. Everyone inthe Battalion was well pleased.

Then I made a horrible mistake. The dispersalpoint had been laid on in Pott’s order, What Ishould have done was to improvise a bunch ofmarkers and blaze the route of each Company.Instead I took each Cpl to his Company area andback to the dispersal point where he was to getinto the leading vehicle of his Company andguide it to the proper area. We were still very

new to England. English roads were a great mys-tery, after the sign posts had been removed. Wehad spent so much of our time in talking to peo-ple that we did not have enough to enable each ofus to learn his own route. The result was thateven I got lost. What a schmozzle! We had Com-panies meeting each other from opposite direc-tions.

Chipstead became our home in England. It was apleasant rural part with good middle class resi-dential areas. Besides the Headquarters of the In-surance Company, the Windmill press had anestablishment there complete with a recreationhall for their employees. Every civilian felt an ob-ligation to the soldiers. Every bathtub in the areawas set aside for the troops for a few hours eachday. Every household entertained the Canadians.Our most pleasant memories of the war are asso-ciated with Chipstead.

Shortly after we were established at Chipstead,Potts laid on a cocktail party on Sunday after-noon in order that we might entertain the localpeople. I can still hear one dowager talking aboutGeorge. “George had been so useful and thewretched Home Guard had shot him." I kept try-ing to figure out what George could have been. Itturned out that George had been a gardener whohad doubled as a chauffeur. George had beenchallenged one night by the Home Guard sentry.George had not stopped.

We settled down to training. The ReconnaissanceTroop were attached to Battalion Headquartersand came under the supervision of the Second incommand, McKerron. We followed a trainingschedule which he approved. Each Saturdaymorning he inspected us very minutely Of coursewe soon learned what he looked for and wereprepared.

One day the inspection went smoothly. Therewasn’t a thing that McKerron checked us on.


When he finished McKerron turned to me andasked me, “Mitchell, when are you going to real-ize that you are in command of real live soldiers.”“What do you mean, Sir?”“Why are the Bren guns not loaded? You shouldbe ready to fight any minute.”

So after that our Bren guns were loaded. Whenwe traveled they were on a fixed mount on themotorcycles. Our’ training took us through allthe surrounding cities. I often wonder what thegood burgesses of Epsom, Purley, Croydon, etc.would have said had they known that there werelive bullets in those Bren barrels that pointed atthem. One day, after a training trip, one of theboys was dismounting his Bren and he acciden-tally discharged a round which went throughPercy Klaehn’s tent a half mile away. Percy wasresting on his cot at the time.

Our motorcycles were Nortons. They were goodbikes. We had ordinary solo bikes. And we hadNortons with sidecars on which were fixedmounts for the Brens. There was a lever which al-lowed the third wheel to be connected solidlywith the main drive wheel. There was no differ-ential. It gave the three wheelers great traction.They really could go through a lot. The only dis-advantage was that when the third wheel waslocked they were hard to steer.

Every Canadian imagines himself to be a naturalon a motorcycle. There was a speedometer on thebikes. Nearly everybody had to see the needle atits’ topmost position. I never did like a motorcy-cle. Under the best circumstances I found thenoise of all those bikes intolerable. There weretimes that I thought I would go crazy. One chap Ican remember.

Fleming was really a good cyclist. He drove asolo bike and was our best rider. One day he wason sick parade. So I detailed him to take a threewheeler and carry the other sick person to see the

Medical Officer. They didn’t even get out of mysight when the bike went out of control. The thirdwheel was engaged. He went too fast. Hecouldn’t steer it and he drove over a compostheap on the roadside. When I saw them, he, hispassenger, and the bike, were all above the road-side fence sailing through the air with the great-est of ease.


Chapter 9: Change of Command

A few weeks after we settled at Chipstead, Pottswas promoted to command Second Canadian In-fantry Brigade. McKerron was given command ofSaskatchewan. LI. He took as his Second in com-mand, Phil Reynolds. It was a good combination,in my opinion. McKerron was a master of thetechnical side of machine gunnery. He had hadwar experience and a great deal of Non Perma-nent Active Militia experience as well. Phil was anatural administrator. He never got flustered andhe always came up with a good answer. But Philwas the junior major in the Battalion. Some Com-pany Commanders were up in arms. Of course Iwas junior officer and was not supposed to knowwhat was going on. But for one twenty-four hourperiod command practically ceased in our Battal-ion while the row was being settled. The Com-pany Commanders demanded that seniority befollowed.

There was only one solution to such an impasse.McKerron should have asked for a request totransfer from any Company Commander whowas too unhappy. Instead he capitulated andasked Phil to step aside. Phil went to SecondCanadian Infantry Brigade to be Pott’s BM. It wasthe end of the road for both Phil and McKerron.

Of course from that moment McKerron’s positionwas impossible. He was still Commanding Offi-cer but he could not count on the complete loy-alty of his Company Commanders. McKerronhad an inferiority complex to begin with. He hadonly one recourse. That was the bottle. As timewent on it was his only solace. Because of that hewas continually getting into further predica-ments. Rumour has it that it was the Padre Corpswho proved his final undoing. At any rate, McK-erron’s lot got so difficult that his Second in com-mand felt so emboldened, that hecountermanded McKerrons personal commandon a Battalion parade on the parade square of the

Brigade of Guards at Caterham, What could bemore humiliating to a former member of the Im-perial Forces?

Scott-Dudley took over as Second in commandand, as such came to be in charge of the Recon-naissance Troop. I went to him with my trainingprogram and asked for guidance. He said that hewould look us over as soon as he got settled inhis new job. Not another word did I get from himabout the Reconnaissance Troop until the daywas relieved of my command.

From the very beginning, McKerron adhered to apolicy that earned him a great deal of resentment.He boasted of the efficiency of the Battalion. Tomaintain that efficiency he refused to allow anyof his officers to be seconded for staff work. Hecommanded the Battalion for nearly two years.We were almost under peace time conditionsthroughout that time. That meant the almostcomplete stagnation of promotion in the Battal-ion. Ambitions in the Battalion were thwarted.Ambitions to do other kinds of work wereblocked. And the Battalion actually suffered fromthe lack of fellow officers on Brigade, Divisionand Corps staffs. In my opinion it was the secondmajor error that McKerron committed.

In the regrouping of the available forces thatwere in England, after the fall of France, theSaskatchewan. LI. was assigned to the SupportBrigade of the 1st Br Armoured Division. I was incharge of the advance party which made the nec-essary reconnaissance of our new area. The Bat-talion was to be dispersed under canvas in thearea around Ockley in Sussex. I reported to theBrigade Headquarters. The Deputy Assistant Ad-jutant and Quarter Master General was quite surethat the Brigadier Morgan wanted to meet me. Iwaited until he was free and was then introducedto Brigadier Morgan - later known to the worldas Sir Frederick Morgan, the man who was incharge of the planning that went into the Nor-


mandy invasion. He was a big bluff affable manwhom I was sure I would like. He had beenthrough the evacuation of France. Our Battalionlearned many valuable lessons from him. The di-visional patch of the 1st Armed Div. was a Rhi-noceros. From that time on we proudly displayedthe rhino on our vehicles as a memento of thoseearly associations.

We completed our reconnaissance and reportedto McKerron. Very elaborate plans were made forour move to the new area. We were the onlyCanadian Unit to be put under command of aBritish formation. It is easy to understand McKer-ron’s determination to make a favorable impres-sion. Uniforms, vehicles and weapons werepolished to a high degree. Almost on pain ofdeath everyone was to sit rigidly at attention aswe drove into the Brigade Area. The Reconnais-sance Troop led the Battalion in the convoy. I wasin the leading vehicle of the whole column.Everything went beautifully until we reached thedispersal point. There Brigadier Morgan and hisstaff waited to greet us. Instead of responding toour rigid formality with a correct salute he gailywaved both arms above his head and shouted,“Hello Mitchell, welcome to the Brigade.” The re-sults were completely disastrous.

This incident emphasizes the difficulties inherentin different peoples coming into close association.The British are thoroughly imbued with genera-tions of class distinctions. Everyone quite natu-rally gives authority its proper respect.Montgomery, Morgan and all the others coulddispense with rigid formality on their part and itwas appreciated as a gesture of good will. Yet theBritish Tommy never lost sight of the fact that hewas a private in the presence of a general. Heconducted himself accordingly.

The Canadian tradition is that is you call me Bill,I will call you Joe. If the King himself appearedon the parade the average Canadian would pat-

tern his conduct on the example set.

In the Canadian Army it is the prime responsibil-ity of the officer to set that example. If he expectsthe troops to behave with rigid formality then hemust first be formal. Of course, in the presence ofthe example set by Morgan, the precise behaviorof our troops completely collapsed.

We soon settled into the routine of our new sur-roundings. At that time there were not very manycombatant troops in Britain. Invasion was a realthreat. Partly to reassure the civilians by the ac-tivity of the military and partly to thoroughly fa-miliarize the troops with the country, each weekwe were given a series of roads to reconnoiter.We learned a lot about the country. I believe that Icould still find my way through the windingstreets of Canterbury in the dark.

I got a new re-enforcement officer - RupertLeblond - fresh out of Officer Cadet Training Unitin Canada. I had a new route to reconnoiter. Thefollowing week we were to be fully occupied so Idecided to do the reconnaissance on Sunday.Rupe was absolutely new to the country so I pro-posed that he came along. We took a three wheelbike for the trip.

My Troop Sgt. - Sgt. Edelman had a sister whowas getting married north of London that day. Itcould have been a yarn but I still believe that mis-sion was authentic. As Troop Sgt. he was equallyresponsible for knowing the various routes. Itdidn’t stretch orders very much for him to go tothe wedding. I appreciated his honesty with me. Igave him permission to go.

The Troop was still in charge of all the other NonCommissioned Officers. Sunday was our day offtraining.

When Rupe and I got back that evening Scott -Dudley was waiting for me -his first visit since


we came under his command. it seems that thatday, after the noon meal, some of the boys hadnothing to do and were a bit restive. They startedtinkering with their bikes. Before long they hadthem running and had organized a race. Theymade such noise that the officers of the BattalionHeadquarters investigated. That was bad enough- but the Cpls. were there and that still clearedme. However a short time later Battalion Head-quarters received a phone call to the effect thatone, Sgt. Edelman, was in a certain hospital witha broken leg following a traffic accident North ofLondon, That was it.

The Reconnaissance Troop was placed undercommand of Headquarters Company and I wastransferred to command a platoon in C Company.I was completely broken hearted, I had been withthe Reconnaissance long enough that I had begunto feel sure of myself. We had some very goodboys and we had learned a job from scratch to-gether, I took my transfer as an utter disgrace.


Chapter 10: “C” Company

Major Reggie Lancaster was Officer Command-ing of C Company. Bertie Thompson was his Sec-ond in command. They had no other officers.Over half of C Company had been in the NonPermanent Active Militia with Reggie. He knewthem and their parents intimately. Reggie was ashortish dumpy looking person with a skin thatblistered in the sun. He was a very hesitantspeaker, it took him twice as long, as anyone else,to say anything. He had a most infectious laugh.He was one of the kindest, gentlest persons that Ihave known. He loved every man in his Com-pany and they loved him. Ordinary army disci-pline was foreign to him. His most extremepunishment, in his opinion, was to tell the of-fender that he was going to write to his parentsand tell them what an irresponsible loon he hadturned out to be. But the Company ticked. CCompany may have had their own way of doingthings but they could be depended on to do themwell.

One occasion with C Company under Reggie thatI fondly recall. One day Archie McRae was a badboy. Reggie awarded him extra hours of packdrill. Archie’s current girl friend was manageressof the refreshment counter at a movie theatresome miles away. They had a date for this partic-ular afternoon and the girl friend was to meetArchie at our gate after regular parade hours, Thegirl friend did not know about the extra “packdrill.” So Reggie invited Archie’s girl friend intoour mess to await Archie. After the pack drillArchie and girl friend ate our evening meal withus in the officer’s mess. Jones did not want toserve a private but Reggie insisted.

C Company was under canvas. There were twosmall bell tents for the officers to sleep in. When Iarrived, Reggie and Bertie were in one and theother was empty. Reggie thought that it was toodamn lonesome being alone in one tent so he per-

suaded me to come in with them. The other belltent remained empty until another officer ar-rived.

Reggie was a dyed in the wool Conservative. Hewas not one to gad about much. Many the nighthe and I had nothing else to do, so we retired toour beds and talked. Nearly always we talkedpolitics. Hour after hour we would talk. At aboutmidnight I would begin to think that maybe Iwas making some headway towards convincinghim, when all at once, he would repeat his origi-nal statement that had started the argument at2000 hours.

Bertie had a batman by the name of Jones, whowas the mainstay of C Company’s officers mess.Jones came from northern Saskatchewan. He hadlost part of his right thumb at the second joint.Rumour had it that he had lost it in an encounterwith a bear. It was difficult for him to hold a cup.They only way he could be sure, was to put thisstump inside the bowl of the cup. It couldn’thave had much feeling for he invariably had thisthumb stuck into our cupful of tea.

Sgt. Magee and Sgt. Bud Rae were the Sgts of mynew platoon. It was a well organized and welltrained platoon. The Sgts were quite indulgenttowards me. They were prepared to keep fullcontrol of the platoon. We had a show down onthe very first parade. They tried to present mewith a “fait accompli.” Much to their consterna-tion, I overruled them. They took it good na-turedly. After that we got on beautifully.

A few weeks after I joined the C Company. Weorganized a smoker for our platoon. As it turnedout it was not a very exciting affair but it did es-tablish me in the platoon and Company. I invitedMcKerron to our smoker. He agreed to come. Inconsequence everyone took more pains about thepreparations. As it turned out McKerron did notshow up but the air had been cleared a bit.


I suppose that Lancaster was quite happy withhis Company without platoon officers. I imaginethat his plan was to keep me from interfering toomuch with a platoon that was already workingwell. At any rate he assigned the Company billet-ing to me. We were under canvas but we were tomove under a roof as soon as we could.

C Company was on an estate owned by Mrs. Ad-cock. There was a lodge at the main gate whichwe took as an officers’ mess. The bulk of theCompany were billeted on the second floor of themain house. Mrs. Adcock lived on the lowerfloor. How she tolerated those heavy boots I’llnever know. There was never a complaint aboutthe boys upstairs. Around a paved courtyard, atthe back of the big house, were former horse sta-bles, carriage sheds and a garage in which therewere five automobiles. The pride of the familywas the hearse-like Rolls Royce kept under aduster. Over all of these outbuildings were addi-tional living quarters. We had Company stores inthe tool house of the kitchen garden. The gardenwas enclosed by a high brick wall onto whichsome peach trees had trained to support them-selves. Back of the tool house was a store roomfor the produce of the garden. In making mydaily rounds I discovered that this store roomwas open and on some of the trays were carefullylaid out the most delicious peaches I have evertasted. I kept that as a personal secret and nevertook more than a couple per week. The door wasnever locked.

The Company Technical Storeman was L/CplTiliman. I struck up a great friendship with himand had many interesting talks with him. I canremember one day when he advanced the theorythat Churchill’s speeches and the allied propa-ganda reminded him of a little boy whistling inthe dark to allay his fear. Tillman wasn’t farwrong.

During one of my visits to see Mrs. Adcock, her

elderly aunt asked if she might talk with me for amoment. Someone had told the poor old soul thatin Canada we buried our dead in the snow banksnear our door step, where we left them untilspring, when we could put them into the ground.She wanted to know if that was right.

There were a great many tales told to the unsus-pecting English during those days. One tale that Iheard was that you could hold a tumbler of waterat head height and pouring it out slowly it wouldhit the ground as ice crystals. Of course many thelad told about the gopher ranch that he owned inSaskatchewan.

At that time there were not very many restric-tions on civilian automobiles. A reasonableamount of gasoline could be gotten. Lancasterbought a car and Vergne Marr and I bought onetogether. Vergne and I got a standard 8 for fifteenpounds. We drove it for about three months untilone Sunday, when after a full days outing, Vergnewas returning fromAldershot and, right in frontof the village hail in Ockley, he went to sleep anddrove into the bole of a huge oak tree. We got fif-teen shillings for the tires.

Soon after I went to C Company, Brig. Morganspoke to the officers of the Battalion in the villagehail in Ockley. I was in the depths of despair overmy transfer from reconnaissance troop and so didnot say anything at the meeting. But I was greatlyworried and voiced my feelings later in C Com-pany lines. We were actively preparing to counteran invasion. I suppose that Morgan was worriedabout having troops stand fast in the face of greatodds. At any rate he told us that we had no ideahow effective our Vickers machine guns wereagainst tanks. He said we could strike theperiscope and various delicate working parts andso partially disable the tank. Also, he said, theimpact of the bullets on the metal of a closed tankturret would so raise the heat of the metal thatthe occupants would be forced to open up. I was


amazed to find a look of complete credulity onthe faces of everyone of our officers. I found thatastounding. But what I was really worried aboutwas what the reaction of our men - practical farmboys - would be to such nonsense. Luckily wenever had to put to test the confidence of anyonein that statement.

Ockley lay right in the path of the Germanbombers flying to London. We had grandstandseats for nearly every major air battle of thatsummer. We will never forget that hot Sundaywhen the GAF (German Air Force) made it’ssupreme effort and were beaten by the RAF. Eventhe drone of the massed flight to London madeone uneasy.

Throughout all of these battles planes were shotdown. We always had a duty platoon, one ofwhose jobs was to keep a picquet ready with atruck to go out and capture the pilots who baledout. That was a very thrilling experience withoutany risk to speak of.

Every night and sometimes in daylight bombswere dropped in our neighborhood. We had ourVickers mounted on AAmounts and one pla-toon’s guns were constantly manned. Severaltimes C Company gunners distinguished them-selves by continuing to fire their guns whilebombs burst nearby.

One afternoon Reggie, Bertie and I went to see amovie in Horsham. A stick of bombs weredropped. We counted one, two, three, four - thefourth shook the movie house violently. For us,who had counted, it was the last. However, thecivilian audience reacted with panic. It was oneof those times when one lives a lifetime in a sec-ond. As soon as the last bomb burst, the audiencejumped up. One immediately became aware of avile evil presence panic when humans ceased toact like humans I spoke up, "Hold it, hold it, holdit." Bertie jumped up on his feet and at the top of

his voice commanded everyone to sit down In aflash the calm was restored and the crisis wasover.

One of the most beautiful and awesome sightsthat I have ever seen occurred one night whenVergne and I were returning from a dance. It wasat midnight that we stopped at Tattenham Cor-ner, at the Epsom Down race track, and watchedan air raid on distant London. We were closeenough to see the planes, the explosions and firesand yet far enough away to see the whole thingas one.

From all over London searchlights sent out theirconverging shafts of light and picked up the air-craft. AA guns fired. First was the flash on theground and then the burst in the air. Bombs ex-ploded on the ground with a great flash, then afire would develop on the ground. Gradually thefires grew and rose coloured smoke billowed upover the whole scene. Every once in awhile, theguns would make a strike and there would be aflaming smoke arc to the ground. It was tremen-dous.

Another memory of those stirring days was sit-ting in a crowded pub, with the girls, on a Sun-day evening, listening to Churchill’s famousbroadcasts. One thrilled to the response of his fel-low countrymen to his stirring words over theradio - “Some chicken, some neck.”

One occurrence that never failed to amuse me. Iwould call for the girl friend to go out for theevening to a show or dance. While she was dress-ing, her father, who had laboured long and wellduring the day earning his livelihood in the City,would be donning his Home Guard kit in prepa-ration to spending the night guarding some crossroads. He couldn’t take an officer’s appointmentin the Headquarters as he did not have enoughtime for that.


No one will ever know all that the Home Guarddid. They were a zealous lot. Sometimes wethought overzealous. One night Bertie and I wereon our way back from a movie at Horsham. Westopped at the pub at Ockley so I could run inand buy some chocolate bars. As I jumped out ofthe car somebody shouted, “halt!” Over myshoulder I called to Bertie - “Answer that bloke,will you?” “Halt!” came again and I paid no at-tention. Then I heard the bolt of the rifle slidehome. Every muscle in my body froze.

We co-operated with the Home Guard as muchas we could. The local commandment was a fa-natic known as the “mad major”. I never cameacross anyone anywhere who was so strict aboutsecurity, blackout and concealment. We went tosee him one evening and got the lecture of ourlife for our conduct.

One of our jobs for the Home Guard was to con-struct a sand bag post near a cross road. That wasmy one and only venture with sandbags, duringthe war. We seemed to get along alright until thewall was half built. Then it seemed that the foot-ings gave way and the wall started to lean. Weshould have torn it down. However, we correctedthe fault with flying buttresses. The finishedstructure seemed reasonable but not according toHoyle. Reggie was displeased but he never saidanything.

Les Clough came to C Company straight fromOfficer Cadet Training Unit in Canada. He joinedwith me in wanting to smarten up the appear-ance of C Company. Hector McLean was theCompany order room clerk. He was quite youngand smart. He was a favourite of Reggie’s. Somedays Hector wouldn’t even bother to put on histunic. He was never reprimanded. Slowly itworked on Reggie and finally one day he gave uspermission to start in on Hector. Before us, he or-dered Hector to carry out our wishes. We gotHector out on morning parades with the rest of

the Company and got the orderly room cleanedup. Things were a pleasure to behold for about aweek. Then Lancaster started getting blasts fromthe Battalion Headquarters about returns thatHector had inadvertently messed up. Beforelong, Hector was in complete charge again.

The night we put on a party for the Company inthe village hall. That night Clough and I startedout on foot for the hall. The darkness was com-plete. We almost had to feel our way along in theblackout. As we were going along we heard acouple of high heels tapping on the pavement be-hind us. Feeling adventurous, we decided to slowup and investigate the high heels. It turned out tobe a local girl on her way to the party for theCanadians. We offered to escort her. She ac-cepted. We got as far as the pub and we decidedon a drink. There was an air raid on and theblackout really was complete. The man in thepub had a bit of a light to make his change byand that was all. As we sat at our drinks wecould only discern the outline of the person op-posite. So we arrived at the Company dancewithout knowing what our girl friend lookedlike. Les pretty well summed the situation upwhen, as she emerged from the ladies room, hesaid - “Well, she is not Hedy LaMarr.”

The Army bedding for the men in camp consistedof blankets, a ground sheet and a paliase. Paliaseis another name for a straw tick. Being resource-ful it was not long until our boys discoveredsomething better - the seat cushions from the pas-senger coaches of the Southern Railway. Threecushions were just right for one man.

The drill was to be alone in a compartment on thereturn journey to Ockley. Then when you ap-proached a nearby field you heaved the cushionsout of the window. After alighting at the stationyou walked back and picked up your new mat-tress.


I do not know how the Southern Railway oper-ated for a time. When orders finally camethrough, from Division Headquarters, that thispractice was to stop and that the cushions wereto be returned, it took a three ton truck to carrythe cushions that C Company had.

Bertie Thompson and I arranged an evening inLondon with the girls from Kingswood. Bertieand I drove up in Lancaster’s car after the pa-rade. We had dinner and saw a show. We took thegirls to their hotel, then we started home.

Bertie pleaded being very tired. He curled up onthe back seat and went to sleep, so I had to driveback to Ockley. London streets are laid out likethe spokes of a wheel. Which means you canhardly miss getting into the centre. But drivingout you have a continuous choice to make ofwhich fork of the ‘Y’ to take. Soon I was in trou-ble. It was after midnight. I guess the policethought that any military person who did notknow the road would be in bed and that I couldbe a fifth columnist. At any rate the directions hegave me did not help me. I asked again. Thesame results. I had been driving more than anhour and I did not recognize anything. Finally Istopped and got out of the car. It was a starlitnight. I found the North Star. I was headingNorth. I wanted to go South. until I got to a roadI recognized I stopped at each intersection andlooked for the North Star. We got home.

Nearly every week we were out on a schemewith some part of the British Armoured Division.Sometimes the weather was nice. Sometimes itwas horrible. One night we were going along inconvoy and Reggie made a mistake in reading hismap. Within a half mile he realized that he wason the wrong road and stopped. The road that westopped on was a very narrow graveled road.How to turn around. Next to my vehicle was anentrance to a hayfield. Bravely I lead my platooninto it. Within a minute my six trucks were mired

up to the axle. The rest of the Company turnedby backing and maneuvering on the roadway. Ican still see the sorrow on Reggie’s face as hespoke: “God I am sorry to leave you like thisMitch, but we must get on with our job and youwill never get out.” He showed me what he knewof the scheme and left.

He had underestimated his farmer boys. In one ofthe trucks was a long stout rope. One truck at atime we tied the rope on and with the aid of fortymen pushing and pulling we got out. Then I dis-regarded the boundaries of the scheme and wentstraight to C Company’s destination. We gotthere before the Company did. We felt veryproud of ourselves.

Much of the time, on these schemes, the convoymoved at fifteen miles per hour. It was terriblyboring for the boys on the motorcycles. One ofReggie’s Dispatch Riders was Skollrood. One dayReggie happened to look into his rear view mir-ror and saw Skollrood on his bike behind, stand-ing upright full length on the saddle of his bike.He had set the throttle and was steering by theweight of his body on the seat. Reggie was para-lyzed with fear. He couldn’t do anything untilSkollrood got down. Then he did give him a lec-ture.

One afternoon Clough came into our little messjust bursting with excitement. He got me off intoour room and asked if I had heard anything un-usual. No I had not. Well he had taken his pla-toon out to do a platoon scheme on direct firethat afternoon. They had beautiful site in ahedgerow overlooking a little valley in whichthere were innumerable fields, trees, etc., and alovely farm establishment. He went through thecomplete routine. The guns were properly placedand loaded. As the final part of his fire order heyelled fire! One of the gunners pressed the triggerand sprayed the farm house. For an instanteveryone was paralyzed. Then “On truck!” Never


did that platoon move so quickly. The odd thingabout the whole business there was never a com-plaint lodged and I doubt that Reggie knows ofthat episode even today.

Gradually our British made trucks were being re-placed by Canadian made. One of the innova-tions of the Canadian truck was the large-sizedtire. Its’ large area and deep tread gave it verygood traction. Somehow or other the rumourspread through the Division that it was punctureproof. Rumour had it that each tire containedsome fluid that would immediately fill a hole.Considering the fact that the workshop boys, atleast, must have had some of them off, it seemedabsurd such a rumour should persist. But it did.

One night the boys in C Company truck guardgot into an argument about whether the tireswere puncture proof. One practical soul, who hadgreat faith in the rumour, put his bayonet ontohis rifle and jabbed it into the sidewall of the tire.It took considerable explaining to show how anew tire would have developed such a leak.

One night one of our chaps was killed in a trafficaccident in the blackout. I was detailed to be incharge of the burial party. Interment was in themilitary cemetery at Brookwood, near Aldershot.During our stay in Aldershot I had been unawareof such a place. In late summer it was one of themost awesome, beautiful places I have ever seen.It’s planned simplicity was almost unbelievable.Regardless of what one’s religious experiencemay have been, Brookwood cemetery m. wakethe most profound of feelings.

One day we officers visited a nearby RAF sectorcontrol centre. I do not recall exactly where itwas. It was mostly below ground. We were in agallery overlooking a huge map of the area on atable. Girls with headphones and long sticksmoved markers representing the various aero-planes in the air. The duty officers had their own

gallery. It was all very business like.The Wartime Exploit of Major H.C. Mitchell 45

Chapter 11: Scotland

My leave came in the 2nd week in October, 1940.It got my passage to Edinburgh. On my waythere I was in London for a couple hours. I en-countered the plight of the civilian in Londonduring the air raids. It was pitiful. Cots had beenset up in layers four and five high on the plat-form of the subway railway stations. These placeswere far underground and quite safe. They hadbeen designed to handle large numbers of peopleto be passed through quickly. They were not de-signed to house such multitudes. When youreached the entrance to the Underground you al-most reeled from the impact of the stench thatbillowed up. The ventilation was inadequate. Iwent below. The platforms were completely linedwith bunks. It seemed that it was necessary forsome one of each family to stay there all the timeto retain possession of a place to sleep. Every fewminutes the trains would rush in with a blast ofair. Hundreds of passengers would change. Whatan experience for those old people and childrenwho spent nearly all of their time by the family’scots!

In Edinburgh I registered at the North BritishHotel. I had definite ideas about my leave. Iwanted to see Scotland. I immediately went outand hired a Standard 8 automobile for a week atone pound per day. I got ration coupons for fif-teen gallons of gasoline. That evening, after din-ner I went into the bar in search of a companionfor my trip. Very shortly I had teamed up with aCanadian Army lieutenant and a New ZealandRAF Pilot Officer. Before the evening was overwe got into conversation with a Lieutenant Com-mander of the Royal Navy who was stationednear Edinburgh - a real old Scot. He outlined atour for us and told us of all the places that weshould see.

That was a wonderful trip. The weather was per-fect. Warm and sunny all the way. The leaves on

the trees had been frosted and had turned colour.We traveled seven hundred miles. Everywherethe people were hospitable and kind. Everywherewe found cleanliness.

The first afternoon we stopped for tea in a littletea house west of Glasgow. We were the first cus-tomers. There were a dozen tables in the room,each with its three tiered tray of scones, cakes,etc. that had just been taken out of the oven. Wehad not had much to eat since breakfast. TheScots girl who waited on us was quite shy andfled from the room after serving our tea. Thescones were absolutely wonderful. Before we fin-ished we ate everything in the room. With verystraight faces we asked for the bill. The little girlhad her pencil and pad in hand, looked at ourtray to count what had been eaten. Of coursethere was nothing left. She just. happened to no-tice that the next table was bare also. Then shesurveyed the room and gasped with disbelief. Idon’t know what happened to her regular cus-tomers.

We got gasoline in Fort William. The garageowner was a very sociable type who was in theHome Guard. He took us around and showed ushis Molotov Cocktails and other defensive prepa-rations. It was incredible to see how earnest hisintentions were to be prepared for an invasion inthat out of the way place. When we came to payfor the gas he told us to keep the coupons. “Lad,you’ll need them.”

My forbears are supposed to have originatedaround Aberdeen. The weather was a bit dull theday we were there. I am afraid I am not as loyalas I should be as I thought that Aberdeen was arather dreary place.

Near Perth I was intrigued with the way the hayand sheaves were stacked and the potatoes putinto the store for winter. At one lovely spot Istopped and took some snapshots of the stacks,


etc.

I had barely finished when a man, who was har-rowing with a team of horses, came runningacross the field and demanded my camera. Hewas sure that I was a fifth columnist. After a bitof diplomatic talk I resolved the situation by tak-ing a picture of him and the beautiful team ofClydesdales that he drove.

The New Zealander had to leave us before we gotback to Edinburgh. The night we got back, myCanadian friend and I went down to the bar tofind our Scots Lt. Commander. Sure enough hewas there. We gave him our very sincere thanksfor the assistance he had given. We had a won-derful trip. The Scot replied by saying: “Maybeyou don’t know it but there are five bars in thishotel. You two must have a drink with me ineach.” What an evening. We each bought a roundof double whiskeys in each of the five bars. Thatwas fifteen doubles in the space of a couple ofhours. The deck was surely heaving when ourScottish friend bade us good night.


Chapter 12: Schemes

There was a very real danger of invasion. The for-mations that were equipped had to be kept in aconstant state of readiness. One of the best waysto ensure this was to hold maneuvers on theweekend. Every week were out for two or threedays. Whether we realized it or not we gainedconsiderable training and experience.

One scheme that we held late in the year lastedfor a week. I do not recall where the Adjutantwas but Reggie Rankin was acting adjutant at thetime. I was called into Battalion Headquarters toact as Intelligence Officer. The Intelligence Offi-cer’s special function is to know as much as pos-sible about the enemy. On these schemes hebecame kind of an assistant adjutant and Aide deCamp to the Commanding Officer. On thisscheme either Reggie or I were with McKerron allthe time. At Orders Group, we took notes forhim. We always had the necessary maps, etc. thathe needed.

Each scheme would have some special point intraining that the GOC wanted emphasized. Astime went on we tried to make the schemes as re-alistic as possible. Some amusing things hap-pened. Sometimes there were tragedies. It was onthis scheme that some tank men were suffocatedunder their tanks. They had bedded down thereand the tank had settled in the mud on top ofthem.

Every once in awhile there would be a new storyof some tank ploughing into a cottage. The civil-ians certainly had their trials when we wereabout.

One funny episode occurred when DraytonWalker lost B Company. Drayton had gone off toan Orders Group. While away he had ordered hisCompany to move. Somewhere an error wasmade and the Company was not where Drayton

expected them to be. Completely at a loss toknow where they were he drove about to findthem, only to have his truck break down. He ar-rived at Battalion Headquarters on foot. WhenDrayton is under stress he has a nervous habit ofbiting the nails on one hand while he scratcheshis crotch with the other. He was working fulltime that day.

It was during this scheme that I achieved a repu-tation, that has clung to me throughout the years,as a map reader. I usually sat beside McKay,McKerron’s driver, and directed him.

We usually traveled at about 30 MPH at whichspeed I did not find much difficulty in followingthe map. McKerron had a station wagon. I guesshe could not see very well from the back seat. Atany rate he decided that I was a genius at mapreading. He never failed to tell all and sundry.From then on I enjoyed an undeserved authorityas a map reader.

One night, towards the end of the scheme, thingsseemed to have quieted down. Nearby was a de-lightful old rural pub that we had discovered.McKerron decided to go down there for a nightcap. On our way back to Battalion Headquarters,our car was stopped by the British Armoured Di-vision G.O.C. How or why he was there I do notknow. McKerron got out to talk to him and saidsomething that roused the Britisher’s ire. Neverhave I heard such a scolding. McKay and I sat inthe car. After a bit, McKay spoke up - “No humanshould ever speak to another human in thatway.”


Chapter 13: Brighton

Soon after that scheme we left the British Ar-moured Division and took over machine gun po-sitions on the seacoast around Brighton. DCompany was at Rottingdean. A Company wasin Brighton, B Company at Worthing and C Com-pany further on.

Out of the blue I was given a promotion to beSecond in command of ACompany underReynolds. I never have understood exactly whybut I had the impression that McKerron wasmaking amends for my experiences with the Re-connaissance Troop.

And, I think that McKerron respected me as aman of means. Awheat farmer was a person ofimportance to him. A year later I felt this impres-sion to be confirmed. During the summer of 1941I was in London two and three times a week. Ispent every cent of my pay on shows, etc. Oneday I paid for an army issue uniform by cheque. Ithink that it was for two pounds, twelve shillings.The cheque bounced and was sent to McKerron. Ihave always felt that issuing that cheque was themost grievous crime I could have committed, inMcKerron’s opinion. It completely altered his es-timation of me. If he could see the red ink in mypass book today!

When I joined ACompany it was in positionfrom Rottingdean to Worthing. Two or threetimes each twenty four hours either Phil or Iwould inspect each gun position. Each gun cov-ered the sea and beach. Our billets were inBrighton. Reynolds had taken over the position,while short of officers, from the Toronto Scottish.

It turned out that the Scottish had pulled a fastone on him and had improperly described thecondition of the billets. For two weeks I preparedmarching in states for the people to whom wewould hand over. Of course I had to phrase each

description as advantageously as possible.

One headache that ACompany had inherited,from the days when Scott-Dudley was OfficerCommanding, was the Company canteen. UnderScott-Dudley it had done a tremendous business.Cpl. Donnely was in charge. When I had joinedthe Company it had been discovered that the can-teen fund was short a great sum of money. Noth-ing seemed much amiss. It had just been poorlymanaged from the beginning and small shortageshad accumulated into a very big one.

The big question was how to operate the canteento keep it properly controlled and yet not be toomuch of a nuisance. Phil and I spent much timetalking it over with the CSM “Pop” Brain. Oneday Brain announced that a gunner, Pte Ostfield,had definite ideas about the canteen. I went outto the Platoon and brought Ostfield into Com-pany Headquarters. In a very few words he out-lined the set-up for the Company canteen.Ostfield was put in charge. From that momentthe canteen ceased to be a worry. I have alwaysthought of this as an excellent example of how aJew and money get together. Ostfield did notwant the job. He wanted to fight Germans.

The British Isles have long been divided into“Commands” for the administration and opera-tions of the British army. Southern Command,which includes Aldershot has always been veryimportant. In 1940 there was a very real threat ofinvasion. So South Eastern Command was organ-ized and comprised those areas most likely to beinvaded first. The primary concern of this newcommand was operational. Lieutenant - Gen.Bernard L. Montgomery was the commander.

One of Monty’s first actions was to call most ofthe officers, of the rank of Captain and above inhis new command, into a theatre in Brighton. Idon’t know how many were there but the theatrewas full. One well placed bomb would have


made quite a dent in the Dunkirk impoverishedarmy.

This was the first that I had heard of Monty. Hecame on the stage, a slight figure in shiny ridingboots. He had a map on the stage and a longpointer in his hand. His first words to us werethat he wanted complete silence. He gave us oneminute to cough and blow our noses. After thatfor one hour there must be silence.

Army commands follow a ritual form so thatthere is maximum communication. Monty wentthrough the ritual. Intention: to repell the Boche.Then he gave a complete summary of the proba-ble German effort and a description of how he in-tended to meet any invasion, etc.

In the administrative sections is one about pris-oners of war. Monty was quite clear. “There willbe no prisoners of war. Any enemy who sets footon Britain must die.” Fortunately for all, no oneinvaded England.

Throughout the war the only serviceman that Iheard wax enthusiastically about Montgomerywas an American Sergeant that we met at Pom-peii while we were on leave. We gave him a lift.He told us that Monty had taught General Pattonall that Patton knew about war. British officerswere embarrassed by Montgomery. This episodein the Brighton theatre partly explains their em-barrassment. He treated his officers like children.He openly proposed on this occasion to violatethe International articles of war. He sought to getdramatic publicity.

D Company Headquarters was in Rottingdean.Reggie Rankin had a favourite local pub. Onemidnight, after an evening in his pub, Reggiecame tottering into D Company mess. He an-nounced that he had tied up a barrage balloon.Everyone considered that a great joke. Nextmorning, low and behold, there was a barrage

balloon tied to a stout pole.

A Company Headquarters was in an indifferentbuilding. Inside it looked quite different. Phil andI each had a private bathroom connected withour bedrooms. His was entirely in black. Minewas in sky blue.

On one trip to London, on the train, an elderlyman got into the same compartment as I at Hay-ward’s Heath. We were alone. I made various at-tempts at getting him into a conversation. Finallywe got talking about events leading up to thewar.

This chap said that his company manufacturedsewing machines. They had a factory in GermanyHe had been a director of the company, when in1935, his company had been awarded a contractby the German government. It was a secret order.No one on the Company Board of Directors knewwhat was made. They were guaranteed a profit.When they inspected the plant, that part workingon the secret order was sealed off, and they weredenied entrance. This worried him. He made apoint of cultivating the works manager. The nextyear, when they inspected the plant, the managershowed him that their factory was making ma-chine guns for the German Army.

When he returned to England he wrote to theForeign Office giving all details. Nothing hap-pened. He wrote again inquiring after his first let-ter. He got a reply saying that they had receivedboth. Thank you very much.

Because we were enroute, Christmas 1939 hadbeen very unsatisfactory 1940 was different.Everyone received parcels from home. Amongother things, my mother sent me a jar of home-made cranberry sauce. Friends had sent me manythings. The postmistress at home, Mrs. J.A. Turn-bull, had started a “Howard Mitchell Fund.”


The Herschel branch of the Canadian Legion sentme candy, nuts and cigarettes. Herschel Legionestablished one of the best records of wartimeservice. During the nearly six years they sentevery service person from the district parcels tothe value of fifty dollars each year. I think thatthey had eight members.

The army provided turkey. H.M. Queen Elizabethsent plum puddings for everyone in our Battal-ion. Altogether Christmas 1940 was a gala occa-sion.

We handed over our positions and billets to anEnglish Machine Gun Battalion. The CompanyCommander had been through the phony warand the evacuation of France. He was a bit cyni-cal. He told of how the division he had been withhad gotten all of their vehicles bottled up on aroad. They were told to leave them and withdrawto a nearby hill with only their personalweapons. Of course they were unable to put upany resistance and they withdrew in a shambles.“It must have been the right thing to do becausethe general got promoted.”


Chapter 14: Coulsdon

From Brighton we went into evacuated houses inCoulsdon that were close to the main railwayfrom London to Brighton. Across the railway, wasa high hill on which there was a radar installa-tion. We were there nearly a year. During thattime I don’t think that Jerry ever tried for the rail-way. But almost every night he would try tobomb the radar post. Many the night I have lainin bed, at Mrs. Gibbs, counting the explosions aseach stick of bombs fell. Always the last bombnever quite reached our house, but after it ex-ploded, a rain of gravel would fall on the roof ofthe house.

I think that it was during this period at Coulsdonthat our Battalion became professionals. The in-vasion threat was not so great. We did not haveto continually man our battle positions. McKer-ron set up Battalion competitions in all phases ofour training. In addition we had our schemes, wetrained at Bulford again and we had our “ColourPresentation” at Caterham.

I was in charge of the advance party for ourCompany. It was strictly a residential area. Thehouses were good and we had little trouble mak-ing everyone in the Company comfortable. Theonly drawback, as far as military accommodationwent, was a parade area. We had only the pavedstreets, which were not very wide.

One story Brain told me. The day our advanceparty arrived in Coulsdon there was a girl, in aplaid skirt, pushing a baby carriage up and downthe street all the while we were arranging things.It seems that our driver dated her first thing. Thatevening they went for a walk, had a drink in thepub and then back home. The driver thought thathe had done pretty well for the first evening andbade the Scots girl good night in the kitchen. Heturned to leave. All at once there was a strangeeruption. He turned around to find the girl com-

ing after him wielding a butcher knife. “I’ll teachye to spurn a Scot’s hospitality.”

Coulsdon was a wonderful location. There wereelectric trains into London every fifteen andtwenty minutes. We were just thirty five minutesaway from Charing Cross station. That was a pe-riod of liberal education for me. My partnerknew London well. She and I explored it at leasttwice a week.

At the Grovenor House Hotel in London an or-ganization sponsored a tea-dance every Sundayafternoon for Allied officers and partners. Thatwas held in the large ballroom and was usually atremendous crush. Great crowds were alwaysthere. It was a good place to meet people but wasusually too crowded for real enjoyment.

Every Sunday evening, in the main dining roomof the same hotel, there was a dinner dance forofficers. This was the pet project of a retired Eng-lish Officer. He was always there to supervise. Heusually had some prominent society figure as aspecial guest. This was the very best entertain-ment that I have encountered anywhere. Thoseattending were strictly limited to the number thatcould be comfortably seated at the tables andserved. The dance floor was never crowded.There just never was an occasion for rowdiness.An RAF band played excellent music. The chargefor meal and dance was always fifteen shillingsper head. We were there as often as we could be.Of course the meals were ordinary rations.

There were several Battalion officers mess partiesin the ballroom at the Pub in Coulsdon. We in ACompany had many parties of our own.

One time there was a stag party in BattalionHeadquarter mess. Someone had been promoted.Some fourteen officers congregated. Before theevening was over everyone’s promotion from thebeginning of the war had been celebrated and


fourteen empty rum bottles graced the mantel onthe fireplace. That night I made a discovery. Rumhad little effect on me. By the time we wenthome, Phil Reynolds was in very bad shape. Fourof us fromACompany had come in his car. Itnever entered anyone’s mind that anyone otherthan Phil should drive Phil’s car. Phil couldn’t seethe road. So I sat beside him and directed him.

Next morning I was up as usual. I had my break-fast and went on parade. By the time I reachedthe parade ground the coffee had reached therum in my stomach. I had very great difficulty instanding erect. I was tight all that day.

On the evening of 17 March, 1941, I took the trainto Kingswood. I had no thought of anythingother than an evening with the folks of my“adopted home.” I was in battle dress. When Igot there I found that there was a posh dance atthe recreation hall of the Windmill Press. Iwanted to go back and change but everyone in-sisted that I should not. So off to the St. Patrick’sdance we went. We had a grand time. The trainsstopped running at midnight so after it was allover I had to walk the five miles back to Couls-don. It was after four a.m. when I staggered intomy room and found Pop Brain sleeping on mybed.

Phil was away at the time and I was in commandof the Company. We had gotten some fancy dresscaps for the men which the CSM sold for 17/6.Some English women irreverently called themstud caps. They did brighten up the drab battledress when walking out.

Pop Brain had about twenty pounds of thismoney in his room. That night he had discoveredthat someone had broken open his strong boxand stolen the money. Pop was beside himself.He insisted that the whole Company be placedunder arrest and searched. It sounded reason-able. So I drove off to see Reggie Rankin, who

was adjutant. Reggie agreed and gave me a chitto Tommy de Faye of D Company. So at reveille,D Company sentries were posted at the front andback of each ACompany billet and no one wasallowed out. Arms were piled in the street. Break-fast was carried to each house. Looking back Ican not but marvel at how splendidly the boysbehaved. Of course they knew about the loss andeveryone was just as interested to find the culpritas I.

The search seemed hopeless. We look every-where. It was afternoon when I started to lookthrough the Quartermaster stores. The CQMSlived with the CSM. Only the Technical StoremanL/Cpl Vick slept in the Quartermaster stores.Poor Tom Vick was dismayed when I startedlooking through his quarters. It was an intolera-ble insult to him. He was utterly dumbfoundedand speechless when I found the money in a bagof beans.

Once we went into Norfolk. To get there we hadto go through London. We were met at the out-skirts by a Dispatch Rider from the MetropolitanPolice and he guided us through the Blackwatertunnel under the Thames. I do not know what ex-perience he had had, but it did not match ours.He traveled at 20 MPH. Our Company tried tokeep proper convoy distance at first. That wasterrible for we were soon separated by taxi. cabsand double decker buses. So we closed up so thatno one could get between us. First we would begoing 20 MPH and then suddenly we wouldstop. By the time we reached the northern out-skirts of London we had to stop and straightenout every bumper.

During one week long scheme North of London Iwas an umpire. I rode a motorcycle some 800miles that week. I never came closer to gettingkilled. One evening, just after dark, I was ridingthrough Luton. I attempted to pass a car in theblackout. Just as I was even with the car I was


passing a woman driver attempted to pass thetwo of us. For what seemed like an eternity I rodebetween those two cars in the blackout. I couldtouch each running board with my foot.

On another scheme I was assigned as an umpireto Lt. Col. Harry Foster’s Headquarters with thePLDG’s. The chief umpire was a retired Englishgeneral. I never did find out what I was sup-posed to do. The disconcerting part was that Fos-ter didn’t know either and he faintly suspectedthat I could be a kind of judge of his actions.

We had a plan for our local defence. Shortly afterwe had arrived in Coulsdon I spent several after-noons picking out gun positions, sentry posts,etc. One day I was trying to find a good spot tocover a railway underpass. I was climbing about,every once in awhile I would lie down on theground to get the view from gun level. Suddenlya soft cultured feminine English voice spoke atmy shoulder: “Must you really act like a littleboy?” She was watching me from a deck chair onthe lawn.

We had battle positions at Crowhurst on thecountry estate of Sir Charles Craven, who we un-derstood, to be the managing director of VickersArmstrong. It was really a beautiful place. Wetook complete advantage of our duty and ex-plored every foot of it. However the inmateswere smart enough to not speak to us any morethan was necessary and we never did get into thehouse, though we were frequently on the estate.

Everything was in the Elizabethan style. Therewas a gatehouse built right over the drivewaywith wood panels and stucco. The house itselfwas a very large, low structure, tudor style, witha moat. Outside of the moat was an outdoor the-atre. The stage was an embankment with hedgesfor the backdrop and wings. A beautifully tuftedslope formed a seat for the audience.

We had some very well constructed positions atCrowhurst. General Pearkes gave us high marksfor what we did. The day of the inspection therewere a couple of staff officers with him. I remem-ber coming to a wooden gate. Pearkes measuredhis distance from it and vaulted over. Clearly hewanted us to do likewise. I knew right well whatwould happen if I attempted such a feat so I quitesedately climbed over the gate. The others fol-lowed my example.

One hot summer day, when the sun really shoneyet the air was most humid, Pearkes came to for-mally inspect our Battalion on a spit and polishparade. Somewhere the channels of communica-tions went wrong. McKerron had us on parade infull battle order. Pearkes had evidently specifiedthat the parade should be dressed in shirt sleeves.He refused to inspect the Battalion. He said thathe would be back in thirty minutes. He wantedeveryone in shirt sleeves. So the order was givento take off our tunics. However, three quarters ofthe parade did not have either a shirt or under-wear on. It was a mixed lot that Pearkes in-spected.

About this time I got a letter from Canada from afriend who wanted to know what officers didwhen we were not fighting. My reply was thatthe men loved their weapons and their vehicles.But the men hated garbage, dirty dishes anddusty floors. So in “peace time” soldiering an of-ficer spent most of his time worrying aboutgarbage, dirty dishes and dusty floors.

We were billeted in houses that had been evacu-ated. In amongst us were civilians who refused toleave their homes. One of these was a little oldwidow who had a black spaniel dog. One day,one of our drivers ran over this dog with histruck and broke it’s back. Everyone was over-come with grief the driver even more so than thelittle old lady.


The CSM brought word to me to ask if I wouldshoot the dog. I always carried a loaded pistol sothat it was a natural enough request. I agreed. Wewere to bury the dog in his mistress’s garden.The driver picked up the dog, I, the shovel, andwe made our way out to the garden, back of thehouse.

On occasion I had slaughtered animals on thefarm. I was well aware of the difficulty involvedin shooting a living animal. I had no confidencein my marksmanship with a pistol. I had no wishto experiment with this poor dog. When wereached the burial spot the driver laid the dog onthe ground. I bashed it on the head with a shovel.That was that. Or so I thought.

But I reckoned without the owner of the dog.That poor woman was in her house with the cur-tains drawn - alone with her Maker - waiting forthe sound of the pistol shot which never came.She was terribly upset when she learned what Ihad done. I am sure that she thought better ofHitler than she did of me.

On local defence we were to Liaise with theHome Guard. To tie in our two plans it was nec-essary for McKerron to visit the Home Guardarea command. He took me along. The HomeGuard Headquarters were in St. Margaret’sSchool, which is in the shadow of the ParliamentBuildings and Westminister Abbey. There we metwith an elderly brigadier and transacted ourbusiness. After we left the Home Guard Head-quarters I remarked to McKerron that the Presscampaign condemning the wanton destruction ofcathedrals did not seem so logical to me after see-ing where the Home Guard Headquarters wassituated.

On our way back to Coulsdon we visited the in-teresting pubs. In one a “broad” of about thirty-five years of age, became very interested in me.The instant McKerron noticed her intentions he

dropped his unfinished drink. “Come on Mitchelllet’s go.” Outside he lectured on the evils of suchdesigning females. “Mitchell don’t ever haveanything to do with that kind of woman.”

Our training included two weeks at Netheravon,midsummer, under the direction of the SmallArms School. I was looking forward to this. I wasnow Second in command of a Company and attimes Officer Commanding. My technical train-ing for the job was almost nil. It seemed that Iwas forever doing odd jobs. I was greatly wor-ried about what would happen if we ever gotinto combat. I couldn’t even visualize how oneestablished contact with the enemy. I intended totake full advantage of my position, when we gotto Netheravon, to pump the instructors.

Just as we were preparing to leave for SalisburyPlains word came that Potts had been given com-mand of a special force. Part of that force werefour officers and 80 OR’s from the Saskatchewan.LI. Potts wanted me as one of the officers. I wasvery upset. I didn’t feel competent to lead meninto action. I couldn’t imagine how any force thathe would assembly could possibly be of tremen-dous importance. If I passed it up I could get thetraining that I needed. I told Phil Reynolds that.When McKerron heard of that he called me onthe phone and delivered a terrible diatribe. Hewas through with a coward like me. I had Philparade me before him and things were straight-ened out in a kind of way. Pott’s force raidedSpitzbergen.

However that marked a very low point in myarmy career. Not many wanted to understand myposition. My relations with Potts came out a bitmore clearly. Certain officers, who were mindfulof political influences, became more outspoken intheir criticism of me. And just about this time mycheque bounced.

Our training at Netheravon was very successful.


Having been there before we were prepared. Thestaff of the Small Arms School was undoubtedlyone of the best in the world. The chief instructor,this year, had taken part in the fall of France withthe Middlesex Battalion. They had covered theretreat with few casualties. They brought backtheir weapons. He set the tone of the training bypointing out that the only way that we could winthe war was for each one of us to take twenty-five enemy.

I rally do not know why, but Phil and I got intosome terrific arguments~ whenever we discussedanything that did not have a bearing on our job.Neither of us was very talkative. Before breakfasthardly a word would pass between us. But atnoon, or in the evening, it seemed that we were,more often than not, intent on disproving some-thing that the other said. We got into argumentsabout whether the daily toll of German planeswere accurate or not. We argued about whether aprotein supplement was necessary to raise youngpigs. One day we really got angry over the num-ber of tanks that Britain had sent to Russia. I can-not be sure of the figures now, but I think thatPhil said that one thousand had been sent. I saidthat it was more likely two hundred. The subal-terns hurried off to their work so that they wouldnot get involved.

One anti-invasion plan called for us to man a sec-tion of the sea coast at Deal in Kent. To get con-voy experience and to be ready for anything wetook our complete Company equipment andtransport. At Deal we constructed a wire entan-glement one half mile long. There were manystrands of wire. When we returned to our billets Ireckoned the gas consumption. Five hundred gal-lons for one half mile of wire. I could never makea pasture pay with that kind of a fence.

I went to see Robert Morley playing the “TheMan Who Came To Dinner,” at the Savoy The-atre. During the intermission I walked back to the

bar for a drink. As I turned a corner I came faceto face with a young fellow in his twenties. Hisface had the most grotesque shape and was a hor-rible blue - black colour. I was startled and invol-untarily showed my distress. In that poor boy’seyes was pure panic.

He was in the company of an older woman whocould have been his mother. Obviously he wasthe victim of an air raid or an aeroplane crash.The woman was helping him to overcome thehandicap, much of which, he would be doomedto carry the rest of his life.

On a Sunday, early in June, Vergne and I took thegirls for a trip to Canterbury. We carried a picniclunch. Just at 1 p.m. the sun shone beautifully. Wespread a couple ground sheets. That was notenough for the lunch and all four so I spread mymackintosh to sit on. Then we went through theCathedral. After seeing the soot-covered Londonchurches, Canterbury looked so clean and unclut-tered. The high pillars and arches were beautiful.Afterwards, we saw the WWI memorial. It wasone of the most beautiful that I have ever seen. Aformal garden, smooth lawns, stately trees, lovelyflower plots.

We drove on into London to dine at the Cumber-land hotel. It was raining and I was wearing mymacintosh. On entering the hotel we passed anEnglish officer. He said nothing but from his ex-pression I looked at my macintosh. It was cov-ered with chalk marks. It was most evident whathe thought.

Once we celebrated a birthday of one of the girlsin London. There were three girls, Leadbeaterfrom the 48th, a medical student and myself. Wehad dinner at the Savoy. On the menu was cornon the cob. I was in my element. I had to havecorn on the cob even though it was five shillingsa cob The waiter brought in huge cobs, ten totwelve inches long. The kernels were watery


green and over all was a white sauce. I wastempted to force the waiter to eat them.

Sitting at the next table was Quentin Reynolds,the broadcaster, or rather he held court at thenext table. I had seen quite a few people whom Ihad considered to be important. Never had I seensuch regal behaviour before. But then, perhaps, Ihad never before seen anyone who wielded somuch naked power. During the evening, peoplecontinually came up to him for a word or two.One artist unwrapped a huge parcel and showedsome pictures.

In July, I went to Windermere on leave. Betweentrains in London, I went to the Savoy theatre tosee the “Gondoliers” by the D’Oly Carte OperaCo. It was delightful. Good costumes and acting,familiar songs. Stepping outside afterwards, fromthe street, I heard the music, “There’ll Always bean England.” How proud I was to be a Britisher.

The source of music was one chap playing atrumpet and another, with a sign hanging fromhis neck, which read “subject to epileptic fits,”playing an accordion. A third passed the hat. Isuppose that even in Utopia there are gradations.

At Windermere, I stayed at the Beech Hill Hotel. Iwas the only service man there. One of the guestswas Tom Snowdon. J.P. His brother had beenChancellor of the Exchequer. I am sure that hewas not more proud of his achievement than Tomwas of being a J.P. I took a bus tour through thehomeland of Coleridge, Wordsworth, Ruskin,Walpole - and of John Peel. On this trip in thestreets of Ambleside, we came upon a processiongoing to a “rush bearing meeting” at the church,This dated back to the time when the churchfloors were earthen and each year fresh rusheswere laid on the church floor.

The first day at Windermere I went for a walk. AMrs. Milne gave me a lift. She invited me to din-

ner at her home nearby. It was a huge affair on abeautiful location on the lake. They invited me tocome back and spend a day with them. Mr. Mimeshowed me around. They had their own fishhatchery.

He owned three tarns or small lakes, into whichhe put the fingerlings. He, his fifteen yearold daughter and I, fished for awhile. I mannedthe oars. The girl caught a fish. Helping her toland it I let it get away. It was not the best way toend a visit.

On 23, August, 1941, I took 70 all ranks to theCanadian Corps sports final that was held in theCommand sports grounds in Aldershot. Somewere contestants. Some were spectators. It was aholiday for everyone. The PT school has a foot-ball field with two sets of bleachers on one side ofthe field. 1st Division had one, II Division had theother. Across the road, on Queen’s Parade, therewere huge marquees for officers, Non Commis-sioned Officers and for the men where refresh-ments were available.

There was considerable rivalry between the Divi-sions. 1st Division had been in England longerand posed as the experienced soldiers. As a mat-ter of fact we had very little difference in our ex-perience. However the G.O.C. II DivisionODLUM, had recently given an unfortunatePress interview, He was pictured carrying an “O”group on a scheme, quite unperturbed by an airraid.

There was to be a ceremonial opening of thegames at 2 p.m. First, the Prime Minister, W.L.McKenzie King was to inspect a guard of honourthat had been supplied by the Black Watch. Theywere smart.

At ten minutes to two, the MC was testing thepublic address system. He read through the pro-gram. As soon as he mentioned the name,


McKenzie King, there was a thunderous boofrom the 1st Division stands. This quieteneddown. At 2:05, McKenzie King, escorted by Gen.McNaughton rode into the grounds. The com-mand was given: “General Salute Present Arms.”The National Anthem was played. Everyone inthe stands stood at attention - all of the officerssaluting. King inspected the Guard of Honour. Asthe inspection party withdrew, someone calledout - “When do we go home.” Both King andMcNaughton laughed. The events proceeded asplanned.

That evening, when I got home, I gleefully toldReggie Lancaster about the episode. “By GodMitch, that is not right. I don’t like McKenzieKing, but he is Prime Minister.”

The next day I talked to an officer from CorpsHeadquarters who had not been in Aldershot. Heassured me that in fact the troops had openlybooed McKenzie King in person. Andy Mc-Naughton deserved better than that.

Since the war I have read many versions of thisaffair. My only conclusion is that most of thosereporting the incident were actually drunk in themarquees on Queen’s Parade at the time.


Chapter 15: We Get Our “Colours”

After we came back from Netheravon we begantraining for the ceremony of the Presentation ofColours to our Battalion by H.M. Queen Eliza-beth on the guards parade ground at Caterharnon 24, Oct. 1941. For about three months before-hand a Guards CSM was attached to BattalionHeadquarters and a Guards Sgt. to each Com-pany to instruct in the training. It was a wonder-ful experience. The boys marched up the streetand they marched down again. Day after day. Itwas surprising how eagerly they trained. It was asmart Battalion that paraded that day. But it wasmarred by the change in command that tookplace. On one of the rehearsals on the Guards pa-rade square Scott-Dudley countermanded a com-mand of McKerron’s. McKerron quickly assertedhimself. But it was the last parade that he was tocommand. McKerron was sent back to Canadaand Scott-Dudley took over.

It took even longer to make the “Colours” than ittook the Battalion to prepare for the ceremony ofthe “Presentation.” The City of Saskatoon paidfor the making. McKerron conducted the intricatearrangements connected with the college of Her-alds and with the firm of Hobsons, who actuallymade the “Colours”. I went with him on severaltrips into London to see Miss Miller, of Hobsons.One day she took us through their “factory” onthe upper floors of their main building. Neverhave I seen anywhere, such a collection of HeathRobinson gadgets as they used to make the goldbraid, etc. I am sure that some had been designedone hundred years ago.

In dealing with Hobsons one got the distinct im-pression that this war time activity was but anepisode in the life of the firm. They were gearedto handle the normal volume of peace time busi-ness. It seemed that they refused to upset any oftheir normal arrangements just because therehappened to be a war. Early in 1943, I called in

there to get some lanyards for our Battalion. Thewaiting room was jammed with waiting cus-tomers. One poor American officer was particu-larly frustrated but manfully refrained fromcriticizing. An English woman war correspon-dent was waiting for some gold correspondentinsignias which had been promised much earlier.She had a train to catch in order to reach her boat.She apologized, to the room in general and to thisAmerican officer in particular, for the bumblinginefficiency of her countrymen. They used thedifficulties of wartime conditions as an excuse tohide their incompetence. Then turning to MissMiller, the lady journalist really poured out herinvective.

Miss Miller was quite unperturbed: “Madameyou are going to make yourself ill. You cannotpossibly do any good by carrying on like this.”

One of the preparations for the actual ceremonyof the “Presentation of Colours” was arrangingfor the defence of the parade. The parade washeld on the square of the British Guards homedepot at Caterham. I was sent to co-ordinate withthem. The defence of the Depot was in charge ofan elderly Guard’s Captain. He showed mearound and suggested what we might do to sup-plement the usual Guards defences. We put insome Vickers on AAmounts and some sentries.The Guards had permanent protection from a Bo-fors’ A.A. battery. The old captain gleefully toldme that one gunner had solved maintenance ofhis Bofors’ gun barrel by covering the end with a“french letter.” Evidentally he did not tell hispals and they wrecked the gun.


Chapter 16: Change of Command

Soon after he took command Scott-Dudley cameover to ACompany and had a long talk withPhil. He asked him to be his Second in Com-mand. Phil was elated. Nothing was to be saiduntil it came out in orders. Sometime later, Part IIorders arrived. P.C. Klaehn was Second in Com-mand. I do not think that I have ever seen anyoneso dejected as Phil was that day.

By this time the invasion threat was becomingquite minimal. We were practically peace timesoldiers. Any weekends that we were not on ma-neuvers, only the duty platoon and duty officersstayed in the lines.

One Saturday at noon Rupe Leblond and I werewondering what to do with our free afternoon.Someone suggested the greyhound racing at theWhite City Stadium. Neither of us had ever seena dog race. We decided to go. We only had 19shillings between us. So we bought return ticketson the train and bus. We had 11 shillings whenwe walked into the Stadium.

What an afternoon. This turned out to be astrictly working class event. We, Canadian offi-cers, were almost as much of an attraction as thedogs. The place was jammed with people. Thetrack was surrounded with pairs of bookies. Wewere intrigued by the way they kept in touchwith their pals on the other side of the track andwere constantly aware of the betting trends bymeans of hand signals.

Rupe looked to me, the farmer, to pick the win-ners. Looking strictly for the hungriest lookingdog, we bet on seven races. We won on five andour first win paid fourteen to one. On the spot wedecided to go into London and spend our win-nings before we lost them.

In London the best that we could do were two

seats dead centre in the orchestra row of theComedy theatre. By the time we had bought ourtickets it was 6 p.m. and the show began at 7. Sowe crossed the street to get some refreshments ata pub. When the show began we were in goodform.

We enjoyed the show and did not hesitate toshow our appreciation. The girl, playing thepiano in the orchestra, sat just in front of usacross the barrier. She did her best to get us to bequiet. We decided that we liked her and duringthe first intermission we smuggled in a drink forher from the bar.

This was just a week or so after Russia had de-clared war on Germany. Churchill had deliveredhis speech welcoming the Russians as our allies.The show was a variety show and one of the skitshad a very belittling remark about the Russians.Rupe and I took exception to their reference toour noble allies. We very loudly booed. The ushercame up to us and asked us to please be quiet. Ifwe had any complaints we should speak to themanager afterwards.

That sounded very reasonable. During the inter-mission we had another drink on it. After theshow, completely plastered, we looked up themanager. He was a very short, slightly built Eng-lishman. We were carrying loaded pistols. Wetook our pistols out of the holsters. “See that! Wecarry these pistols so that we will be prepared todeal with fifth columnists. We think you are justas bad as a fifth columnist.”

Had we been in any other place in the world thatwould have been our Waterloo. Those wonderfulBritishers! That little Englishman told us howproud he was to think that the defence of hiscountry was in the hands of such capable fineyoung men as we were. He really poured it on.No one ever left Buckingham Palace feeling moreproud than we were as we parted from that man-


ager of the Comedy Theatre.

Going home we shared the train compartmentwith an English Army officer. I didn’t realize thecondition that we were in until I saw the disgustreflected in his face. We had about a quarter of amile to walk from the station to get home. Thatwas a nightmare. I was tired. Rupe kept pleadingwith me to let him lie down and sleep - just forone minute. My anger with him kept me going.

Shortly after we arrived at Coulsdon I acquiredtwo girlfriends, Anne and Jeannette, aged eightyears. Their fathers worked in London. I don’t re-member about their schooling. They had a“crush” on me and it was reciprocated. At everyopportunity they would meet me as I left themess. Hand in hand we would go to the paradeor the office.

One evening, in October, they came to the messto see me. They had a stick of gum that theywanted to share with me. They were all agogabout a parade that the local War Loan Commit-tee was having the next day. A band and a de-tachment of soldiers from the Guards at Caterlomwere taking part. The Home Guard, ARP, LandArmy, Boy Scouts and all would be there. Thegirls wanted to know if I would be parading.Anne spoke up, “If I were a Boy Scout I couldtake part in the parade.”

Another leave I spent on a minesweeper doingescort duty with coastal convoys. The skipperwas a banker in private life. Before the war hehad sailed a yacht for pleasure. At the outbreak ofwar he found himself in the navy as a ReserveOfficer. He had a happy ship and I enjoyed myfive days with him. One day we sighted a float-ing mine. The skipper ordered out the army riflesand he and I undertook to shoot down the mine.What a job. Both the ship and the mine were con-stantly moving. The target was never where youshot and there was no way of knowing which

way each would go.

Another time a magnetic mine exploded in frontof us. The ship it was near was damaged. Ourship took the impact straight on the bow. Theship just suddenly stopped for an instant.


Chapter 17: Hove

That fall we moved back into the Brighton Area.Battalion Headquarters was at Steyning. A Com-pany moved into some new houses beside thepark at Hove. The houses had never been occu-pied before and were quite modern. We had de-fensive positions to occupy but only in case of anemergency. There was a range nearby and wewere right on the edge of the downs. Training fa-cilities were very good.

And always we established close contact with thelocal Home Guard. As usual they were com-manded by a “Mad Major”. One Sunday they in-vited us to witness a demonstration of theirmolotov cocktail projectors. They were a lengthof pipe with a spring that shot the bottle about100 ft. They had four of them lined up. We wereall around examining them when all at once theyfired them. Never did Canadians retreat anyfaster.

One day, while I was Officer Commanding, the“Mad Major” came around with a proposal thatwe should have a training competition. Itsounded like a good idea to us and we agreed.We were to compete in map reading, signaling,marksmanship, rifle and squad drill, etc. It pro-vided a tremendous stimulus to our training. Theboys really tried. However, the competition wasreally not even. The Home Guard Company drewfrom all of Brighton for its strength. Their drillsergeant wore a long service ribbon of the IndianArmy. Their signaler was a telegrapher. Of coursenearly every Britisher has served his time withone of the forces.

We had a tough time in our competition. And theunfortunate part was that the “Mad Major” madea point of visiting Div. Headquarters and boast-ing. When Phil came back to the Company hewas quite annoyed and terminated the competi-tion at the first opportunity. To get things back

into perspective Phil arranged a poker game be-tween himself, Potts, the “Mad Major” and a cou-ple of others. My job was to get the “Mad Major”tight. Which I did. He proceeded to make a foolof himself at the poker game. Potts was com-pletely disgusted with him. Which was what Philwanted. With that accomplished I took the “MadMajor” and poured him into his house.

We shared the truck standing, on the drivewaysin the park, with a British tank regiment. Whenwe each had all of our vehicles there it was verycrowded. It seemed that the British always had anumber of tanks away at workshop. So the ten-dency was for our boys to spill over the demarca-tion line. It really was not very serious. But it didnecessitate us occasionally moving a truck whenfresh tanks arrived. One day the British Colonelstrode into my orderly room. I had never seenhim before. Without any preambles he began:“You know old boy, I love you like a brother butif you don’t keep your trucks out of my area, weare going to have an awful fight.”

Rupe and Russ Nicks occasionally met up withsome of the Tank Officers in the pubs. They wereinvited to drop into the Tank mess on CambraiDay - the anniversary of the first time tanks wereused. They were there for a short while but left assoon as they decently could. They were com-pletely terrified. I have never been able to under-stand it but British officers can, on occasion, goabsolutely berserk and no one seems to mind.These Tank Officers had many drinks in the mess.Then a couple took Rupe and Russ out for a carride. It was a small English car with a sun roof.The officer, who drove, stood up with his headout the roof and pretended that he was driving atank. They went on the wrong side of the street,they went on the sidewalk, they tried to rundown pedestrians. It was absolutely crazy and noone lifted a hand to stop them. What finally gotRupe and Russ out of the car was when theydrove up the tank loading ramp at the railway.


There was not a flatcar there and the driverstopped with only an inch to spare.

While we were in these billets the Battalion wasscattered over quite an area. The Medical Officerheld sick parade at each Company Headquarters.He was always with us at noon. J.D. MacKintoshwas quite a talker. I suspect that he got talkingwith Scott-Dudley one evening about ACom-pany’s lovely billets - it is only a surmise on mypart. At any rate at one Battalion Orders Group,Scott-Dudley jumped on me about ACompany’smorals. He knew that the men were havingwomen sleep with them. It was quite typical ofthe spirit that prevailed in the Battalion at thattime. I tried to get something to work on. He hadno facts - just someone had told him and hewould not say who.

When not on duty, Rupe and Russ were usuallyout every evening. There were several good pubsin Brighton. The favorite was the Old Ship. Onenight they pleaded with me to go along. They feltsorry that I wasn’t having more fun. There wasno reason for not going so I went. They boughtme a drink and it seemed like the beginning of avery good evening. All at once the air becameelectric I turned to see a couple of big, muscularCanadian Officers come in. They came over to thebar and spoke rather curtly Then one said some-thing that I did not think was called for and I re-monstrated. The chap made a rather crude reply.Then I felt someone pushing and urging to sockhim. It was little Russ Hicks, I immediately be-came suspicious. It turned out that Rupe andRuss had gotten into a row with these two thenight before. They had brought me along to adda bit of strength to their argument I made a veryhasty retreat.

Russ Hicks was a barrel of fun. He had never re-ally grown up. He had to be handled with a verytight rein. But his platoon loved him. When heput his mind to anything he could get results. He

left us to join the Paratroop Battalion which wastraining in the Southern States. His first lettersaid that he was doing alright - he had a Georgiapeach in each arm. That was typical.One Sunday evening we were at the dinner-dance in London. We stayed later than we reallyshould have. When we got to the hotel entrancethere just was not a taxicab to be gotten. We hadlittle time to spare to catch the last train. We weregetting desperate when a cab drove up withseven RAF officers in it. They refused to let theircab go. I entreated with them to help us out. Theyagreed that we could use the cab if one of theirnumber came along to hold it for them. Theydrew lots and away we went.

Our benefactor, who came along, was an Ameri-can who had joined the RAF in 1939. He wasplastered. “Tonight I am a belligerent. At last Ican be proud of my country. America has de-clared war.”

That was the first that we heard of Pearl Harbourand the U.S.A. declaration of war. Six monthslater the American troops arrived in our oldstamping ground at Chipstead. I was curiousabout them and asked my good friend what theAmerican soldiers were like. “Oh charming. Theyare just like you Canadians were when you firstarrived at Chipstead. So obviously new recruits.”

In December there was a pantomime playing inthe Brighton Theatre. Jill Manners played thelead as Robin Hood. She had a tricky forest greencostume and sang a couple good songs. We sawthe show several times. Eventually we got upcourage and invited Jill Manners and some of theothers up to the mess one evening. Jill’s husbandcame along. He was her manager and was twiceher age. We thought that that was terrible. But westill thought that Jill was pretty nice and we hadseveral parties for her.

In the New Year, Vivien Leigh played in Shaw’s


“Doctor’s Dilemma.” By this time we were reallyorganized for parties. We decided to entertainVivien Leigh. One evening - during the intermis-sion, Fred Tessman and I went backstage and in-vited Miss Leigh to come to our next party. Sheaccepted. Of course, after that got out wecouldn’t keep Jill Manners away. However, wewere still loyal to her. We had two silver capbadges made up as broaches and engraved - onefor Vivien and one for Jill. I don’t know whatMiss Leigh thought of the evening, but wethought that it was grand.

As part of the preparations for entertainingVivien Leigh, I had cautioned our officers to notquestion her about her work. However, we hadno control over our English girlfriends. In notime they were asking all sorts of questions about“Gone with the Wind,” etc. Afterwards, I apolo-gized to Miss Leigh. She said that she did notmind. It showed that they were interested in herwork. However, she did feel like pulling hairwhenever anyone suggested that she, Personally,was like Scarlett O’Hara.

My impression was that she was a very hardworking, sensible person. A footnote. We learnedthat the Royal Naval establishment at RoedeanSchool where there were about one thousandpeople, had invited Miss Leigh for the sameevening. She couldn’t go because she had prom-ised the Canadians. So she spent the eveningwith our party of a dozen.

One night I got a phone call from the civilian po-lice in Brighton. Was Pte so and so Number soand so one of ours. Yes he was. Then send some-one down here for him. This soldier was one ofthe quietest and meekest persons imaginable. Herarely spoke above a whisper and when anyonespoke to him, he always kept his eyes on theground. It turned out that on this night he hadgotten drunk. Then, all by himself, he wandereddown into the restricted area in Brighton where

no one was to be after curfew. When the policefound him he had kicked in every plate glasswindow in the store fronts in one block and washalf way down the second block. There werethousands of pounds damage.

This was the beginning of a trying time for theCanadians overseas. Threats of invasion were be-coming less real and had been talked about somuch that everyone was bored. The boys knewtheir way around now and all sorts of pranks de-veloped. Of course every misdemeanor had to bepunished and recorded on the person’s ConductSheet. It seemed to me that the penalties pre-scribed by the Army did not exactly fit. So I de-veloped a code of my own. “Do you accept mypunishment? “Yes Sir.”

Then for the minor misdemeanors I would awardso many hours digging in the garden. This wasvery satisfactory except on one count. Winter wasthe time for digging gardens and it meant thatthe lots occupied were ready for the summer. Itwas a punishment that had the desired effect onthe individual and it meant that his conduct sheetwas left clean. The orderly sergeant, whose dutyit was to supervise the punishment, could sit bythe window, in the warm. The only people whoobjected were the old ladies who lived in nearbyhouses. They thought that it was a disgrace andthat I was an insufferable brute to force thosepoor boys to spend their free hours, Saturdaysand Sundays, digging, rain or shine.

The army issued leather jerkins for the use of Dis-patch Riders. These were beautiful sleevelessleather coats. One day, while checking stores, wediscovered that five of them were missing. Theywere useful for anyone and made wonderful con-traband. Our investigation lasted over a period oftime. I do not recall whether we traced all ofthem or not. However, ten years later, at a Battal-ion re-union in Saskatoon, Smart got well oiledand proceeded to give me hell. Evidently I had


suspected him.

In Feb. 1942, I went on leave to Northern Ireland.Several of our boys had gone there, changed intocivvies, and slipped into Southern Ireland wherethey had had a good leave. I didn’t have anycivilian clothes so I did not intend to go to South-ern Ireland. I chose a very poor time to visitNorthern Ireland and I got a very bad impres-sion. The weather was dull, wet and cold. Every-thing seemed dreary.

I was greatly impressed by the shipyards inBelfast. I did not go through them but shipyardsare hard to conceal and they looked tremendous.On the docks I saw a heart warming sight. A littleold fellow had a wagon loaded with iron ingots.He had a huge Clydesdale horse hitched to thewagon. The horse was having difficulty in start-ing the load to move. The old fellow was sittingon the front of his load He leaned forward andstroked the horse’s hip with his hand and spokeencouragingly The horse got down so that hisbelly was only inches off the pavement. With amighty heave he started the wagon rolling

Things were rather quiet in Belfast so the nextday I took the train to Londonderry I enquired inBelfast as to the best hotel in Londonderry I regis-tered and was shown to my room The sheets onthe bed had not been changed since the last occu-pant. I went out and looked over the town. Myhotel was the best.

Londonderry had been chosen as an Americannaval depot. Everywhere I went the place wascluttered up with drunken American sailors. Itwas altogether disgusting. After dark I ate, wentto a movie and arranged to go back to Englandnext day. I spent the rest of my leave with myfriends in Kettering.

On my walk around Londonderry I saw a gangof men loading a barge with grain. There was a

foreman who wore a bowler hat and a velvet col-lared top coat. He had twenty-five men. Theyfilled sacks with grain from a bin. The sacks wereloaded into a cart and carried across the dock tothe barge. There the grain was dumped loose intothe barge. I asked the foreman why didn’t he putthe loose grain into a box on the cart and thendump the cart into the barge. His answer, “Wedon’t do it that way.”

In Londonderry I saw several American workparties. They wore a very sensible uniform. Theenthusiasm with which they did their work was agreat contrast to the local workmen. I liked theAmerican private’s walking out uniform. Aboutthe best dressed serviceman that I have ever seenwas an American Sergeant.

The American officer’s walking out uniform wasludicrous. One had to have a laundry handy toeven keep it clean. It emphasized the merits ofthe British officer’s field service dress. It could betaken out of a bedroll. You polished the buttonsand leather and looked presentable.

In March, I attended a Battalion officer’s cookingcourse at the RAMC barracks near Aldershot.There were only two of us out of sixty that wereCanadians.

The other Canadian’s name was Kendall. As soonas he learned that I came from near Rosetown hetold me that he had been there in 1932 with agroup of six planes that barnstormed the prairiesas a circus. He had flown the “herald’s” plane.

I did not see their exhibition in Rosetown. But Iremember that the next morning I was cultivat-ing my summerfallow with an outfit of horses.All at once they had acted strangely. I didn’t no-tice anything to frighten them. Then I looked upand directly overhead were six light aeroplanes.

On one scheme when I was at 2 Canadian In-


fantry Brigade Headquarters waiting for an Or-ders Group that was to take place as Soon asPotts came back from Division Headquarters,General Crerar drove up.

The previous week there had been a picture ofGen. Alexander driving his own jeep in all of thepress. Gen. Crerar was driving. It was obviousthat he had poor eyesight and was a poor driver.I sympathized with the uncomfortable driver sit-ting beside Crerar. The driver was responsible forthe vehicle.

However, Crerar soon demonstrated his talents.We were each introduced. On learning that Icame from near Rosetown he mentioned thenames of some of the officers in the 67th L.A.A.Battery. Crerar had come to 2 Canadian InfantryBrigade Headquarters to tell Potts that he was totake command of a Division back in Canada.


Chapter 18: Steyning

Early in the summer of ‘42 the Battalion drew to-gether around Battalion Headquarters at Steyn-ing to live under canvas. We had spent most ofour time since the days of Tournaj in separatedpositions. It was really a good thing for us to livetogether as a Battalion.

A Company were allotted one driveway into theestate. I had impressed it on the boys that we hadto prove that ACompany was the best Company.Everyone did a grand job. Tents were put up inconcealed positions. Trucks were put under treesas much as possible and then covered with cam-ouflage nets. Several of the other officers of theBattalion complimented me on the job that wasdone. That in itself was unusual. When I walkedinto the mess, the first time, Scott-Dudley ac-costed me and, before everyone bawled me outfor the sloppy job that ACompany had done inconcealment. It seemed that we just couldn’twork together.

We had a Battalion sports day at Steyning thatwas very successful. Running, jumping, shot put,tug of war, etc., baseball. It was a full day of ath-letics and everyone enjoyed it.

One Sunday we were visited by the SeniorProtestant Chaplain in the Canadian Army andhis deputy. He was an old man just over fromCanada on a tour of the forces. He didn’t likewhat he saw and heard. And he told us so on theBattalion church parade. I was standing besidehis deputy from Canada. I never saw anyone sofull of consternation and amusement at the sametime as the deputy. The old man really poured iton, mincing no words. He told us that some ofthe things we were doing were a disgrace andthat everyone of us should be ashamed. I hadseen a lot of padres trying to do some good andmeeting with a lot of resentment. This old man,who was old enough to be father of everyone and

grandfather of most, was listened to and re-spected. I cannot say how much good he did, I doknow that everyone listened to him without re-sentment.

While we were at Steyning the Canadian Corpstook part in the famous Tiger Exercise under Gen.Montgomery. The exercise took place in Surrey,Sussex, and Kent and lasted for a week. It was totest our ability to maneuver for a long periodwith limited supplies. Some great distances werecovered.

All ranks carried one blanket each. There was tobe no other bedding. Actually it wasn’t such agreat hardship. Everyone had a ground sheet anda greatcoat. Rupe Leblond was my Second incommand and we alternated on duty. So whenone of us slept we had the other’s blanket. Thesecond night out, Pop Brain came to me in a greatstate. Cpl. Powell had a bedroll. Powell’s bedrollwas confiscated. Actually his bedroll took up thesame space as a blanket. Under actual warfare noexception could have been taken. But the condi-tion of the scheme had been laid down by order.Powell had broken those conditions.

At the end of Tiger Exercise and while awaitingour turn to join the convoy home we had ourCompany Headquarters at Church Farm nearEtchingham Sussex. The farm was Operated byMrs. McRae and her son Thomas. Her husband,was Commodore McRae of the Royal Navy. Hewas one of the commanders of the merchantnavy convoys that sailed the Atlantic. It was oneof his convoys that the Ministry of Informationfilmed and circulated throughout the world inthe early days of the war.

At the end of the exercise we had chosen the out-building of Church Farm for our Companykitchen, etc. Mrs. McRae invited us officers tosleep on her living room floor. She had a wall towall carpet and we were comfortable. As the ex-


ercise was over we had no urgent business. I sup-pose that Mrs. McRae was keen on getting us upoff her floor. At any rate at about 7 a.m. she cameinto the living room with a tray of glasses, a jugof water and a bottle of Eno’s Fruit Salts. “It willnot do you any harm and it may do you somegood.”

Eno’s Fruit Salts had always been a standardremedy in our home so I dutifully drank a glass-ful. However, Rupe was true to the medical tradi-tions of his home and he refused to take any.

That was the beginning of a fine friendship forme. I spent a couple leaves later on at the ChurchFarm. One day I limed a field for Thomas with asingle horse hitched to the fertilizer drill.

The day that I limed the field was at the end of aleave that I had in June. I had gone to a small sea-side hotel in Cornwall. I was the only servicemanthere. On Sunday the fall of Tobruk was an-nounced. For me that was absolutely the “lowtime” of the war. It seemed to be utterly hopeless.Most of the other guests seemed to share myopinion.

For the private soldier it was a frustrating time.One day at Steyning, Smythe, who was helpingthe Battalion shoemaker, came up to me as I wasinspecting our lines. He saluted and said, “Arrestme Sir, I’m through soldiering. I won’t do any-thing more. So arrest me.”

Such an encounter was entirely irregular. Thearmy has a formal procedure for anyone to voicea complaint. However, I was as unorthodox asSmythe. I took his hand and said, “Come withme.” We went back to the shoemaker’s tent. Igreeted the sergeant, “Sergeant, if you let thisman out of your sight during parade hours, I amgoing to put you on charge.” So the situation wassolved. But I sympathized with Smythe.

All the while that we were at Brighton and Steyn-ing we used the Downs for some exercises bothwith and without troops.

The plans I helped to lay out utilizing everyweapon. One day I was out with my Companyofficers doing a Tactical exercise without troops.An aeroplane flew low overhead. We had beenreading about a newAmerican plane - the Mus-tang - and we thought that this was one. Anearby Bofors AA gun opened fire at this planethat we thought was a Mustang. We walked overto the AApost. It was manned by a British guncrew. I asked the sergeant what kind of a planethat he thought this one had been. “I don’trightly know, Sir. Planes are not supposed to flylow over here anyway. We really didn’t aim at itvery well. You see last week a Messerschmitt flewover this post. The gun crew that was on dutythat day did not fire and each got fined tenshillings because the plane flew on and bombedthe gasometer at Brighton. We fired to make surethat we didn’t get fined like they did.”

At about this time it became definite that our Bat-talion was being given an additional weapon -the 4.2 mortar. Training courses for officers andinstructors had been organized and our Battalionwas given an allotment of places on each course.I had been in the Army for some time now. Sincewe left Saskatoon I had not had any special train-ing. Others had always gotten the “Courses.”Without boasting I knew that I was doing a goodjob as Company Commander. I felt that I waswithin my rights in asking to be considered to besent on a 4.2 mortar course. Which I did. Scott-Dudley’s reply was, “If you are not satisfied withthe way that you are being treated as an officeryou can always resign your commission and jointhe ranks as a private soldier.”

In the middle of the summer of ‘42 the Battalionwent back to Netheravon for a Machine Gun fieldfiring and training period. We were under the su-


pervision of the Small Arms School but we did allof our own instructional and administrativework. The Battalion Second in command togetherwith the Company Second in commands formedthe nucleus of the training staff and organizedthe “school.” It was a most successful training pe-riod. A Company excelled themselves. I wasproud of the Company. At the conclusion of the“concentration”, but before the Battalion leftNetheravon. I changed Company commandswith Reg Rankin. He had been commanding theSaskatchewan. LI. Company at the Machine GunHolding Unit at Crookham Crossroads in theAldershot area.


Chapter 19: Crookham Crossroads

The tour of duty at the Holding Unit for theCompany commanders was four months. I cantruthfully say that those four months were one ofthe most instructive periods of my army career. Itwas almost like a “course” in Army administra-tion.

The role of the Holding Unit was to hold andtrain reinforcements for the Battalion in the field.Each field Battalion had it’s Company in theHolding Unit. Everyone, who, for any reason,was struck off the strength of the field Battalioncame on to the strength of the Holding Unit.These then gathered at the Holding Unit, the re-cruits from Canada, the people from long ArmyCourses, the people from hospital and especiallythe bad eggs from “detention.” They made quitea mixture.

The officers of the Holding Unit consisted of therotating commanders of the reinforcement Com-panies and a permanent staff of officers. Some ofthese permanent people, no doubt, were peoplewho had gotten themselves into a soft job for theduration. They were partly responsible for thebad name the Holding Unit had with the fieldBattalions. But a lot of the friction was caused byplain childishness on the part of the officers inthe field Battalions.

Most of the permanent officers in the HoldingUnit were men with distinguished First Warrecords. They would have given anything to bewith the field unit but they were just too old.Some of the instructors were held because oftheir particular ability. After a period of time theywere usually granted their wish to get up to theirown unit.

Of course the Holding Unit had its share of theoddities of human nature. Because no one likedit’s static atmosphere the presence of these oddi-

ties was sometimes overemphasized.

Lt. Col. John Christie was the Commanding Offi-cer of the Machine Gun Holding Unit. He wasone of the finest gentlemen that I have ever met.He was a Company Commander with theToronto Scottish during the days at Tournai Bar-racks. I hadn’t known much of him then but Icame to I have a great admiration for him duringmy tour with the Holding Unit. John could nothelp loving the Toronto Scottish. He was manenough to admit his Partiality.

One of my first jobs at the Holding Unit was tonominate an officer for a 4.2 mortar course. I putmy own name in. Christie vetoed that. He sym-pathized with me. He put it slightly differently.In the Toronto Scottish they had officers, like me,whom they just couldn’t do without and, like me,never got away on a course. I couldn’t leave theHolding Unit for that would defeat the purposeof my coming.

Those were the days of the phony war in Canada.It seemed to us that the chief concern of Canadi-ans then were cost plus contracts, higher wages,farmer’s march on Ottawa and zombies. Rein-forcements were very scarce. Each field unit wasunder strength. On the roll of the Holding Unitwere many who seemed eligible to go to the field.Why did they not go?

The War Establishment of the Holding Unit pro-vided for a bare minimum to operate the Unit.Fatigues and routine duties, which increasedwith the numbers, had to be done by the “tran-sients”. In actual practice that meant that manypeople were detained at the Holding Unit to dothese jobs which, very largely, were not recog-nized by the W.E.. I, in my naiveté, contendedthat more of these men should be sent on to thefield units. It so happened that the Toronto Scot-tish Company Commander changed a few weeksafter I came. The new chap was a splendid young


fellow whom John Christie worshipped as if hewas his son. The new Toronto Scottish chap sidedwith me at the Company Commander’s meetingwith the Commanding Officer. The Officer Com-manding of the Headquarter Company, MajorBolsby D.F.C. - another Toronto Scottish - told usthat we just didn’t know what we were talkingabout. He must have the fatigue’s that he had.However, Christie made a great effort to be fair.He authorized the Toronto Scottish CompanyCommander and I to make a survey of the camp.The next day we went through the camp with anotebook and listed the work that each personwas doing. We compiled the results and reportedto Christie that at least one hundred men couldbe spared. Bolsby hit the roof. But Christie wasconvinced and ordered our plan to be adopted.

We were elated. But how naive we were. Withintwo weeks the old order was re-established. Thething was that when someone came down fromCMHQ and saw a few cigarette stubs on the pa-rade square there was hell to pay. When the fieldunits were under strength a few men no one inthe rear echelons were disturbed. Liaison be-tween the rear and forward echelons was so poorthat the complaints from the field never regis-tered.

Dieppe was a horrible experience at the HoldingUnit. Field returns report all casualties to theHolding Unit immediately almost before news ofthe raid came out in the press. We were gettingreports of killed, missing, wounded and prison-ers. Many of the chaps we had known well. Thethousands that were reported was shocking.

The Adjutant of the Holding Unit was DennisFusedale, one of our original SLI. He and I mademany sorties together in the evenings. There wasa little rural pub a couple miles away which wevisited occasionally. There we met only the localfarm labourers, etc. Over a pint we would talkabout the crops, weather, etc. About four miles

away was a more elaborate pub that had a dancehall in connection.

One night at the pub, I forget what the occasionwas, but we were celebrating something. In thecourse of the evening we drank a lot of liquor.When it came time to go home, Fuzzy and I couldbarely stagger. In fact much of the way Fuzzyheld on the belt of my MacKintosh and I towedhim.

The evening of a mess party I got a rude shock.For nearly three years now any feminine com-pany that I had been in was English. That night agroup of Canadian nurses, who had just arrivedfrom Canada, came into our mess together. Theirshrill, hard voices were horrible.

From the Holding Unit I went on leave to Oxford.The Auxiliary Services had arranged for officersto stay in the University buildings during thetime that classes were not in session. We stayedin New College for a week.

Every morning there were two or three lectures.Each afternoon there was a tour arranged tosome place nearby. We attended a play in theShakespeare Memorial Theatre in Stratford onAvon. We went through the Bodelian Library. Weboated on the river. One afternoon I went to theAylesbury market. There I met a farmer who tookme to his home for tea. After tea I went out anddrove his Massey Harris combine around thefield once.

One evening an Oxford Women’s organizationarranged a panel discussion on some topic of theday. I forget what it was about. They had a cou-ple British officers, two American officers, aCanadian nurse and they came to me to see if Iwould approve their choice of a Canadian officer.Of course I did. But this was another occasionwhen I failed to understand the English. Theyhad chosen Capt. Ted Leathers. He stayed on in


England after the war and became an MP. I hadheard of Leathers, he was an artillery officer. Idid not really know him. But one glance classi-fied him for me. He wore riding breeches andboots - a uniform which, even in the BritishArmy, only a general wore at odd times. He af-fected an English attitude and accent. Those Eng-lish women swallowed it hook, line and sinker.The last that I heard of Leathers, Heath ap-pointed him Governor General of Bermuda.

I met the Canadian nurse again two years later atthe officer’s leave hotel in Amaalfi, Italy. Anotheracquaintance I made was a French Canadian RCpadre. Six months later I met him in London. Heasked me if I was busy at noon. “No.” “Could Ijoin him for lunch?” He was eating with an inter-esting couple. I did.

The interesting couple were a Free Frenchmanand his wife who had come to London for a leavefromAlgiers. In Algiers they did radio broadcast-ing to France for the Free French.

We ate at Prunier’s. We handed the Frenchmanthe wine list and told him to order for us. He didso very expertly. The luncheon lasted for wellover two hours. We had several wines and theywere all pleasant. That morning I had bought amap of the world for my current affairs class. Itwas on stiff cardboard. It folded but it was still aslarge as a storm window. After the luncheon I leftthe restaurant with this map under my mackin-tosh, to protect it from the rain. After I had gone afew blocks I realized that I had lost my map.Only then did it register with me that I was horri-bly drunk.

The party consisted of the French couple, mypadre friend and a second R.C. French speakingCanadian padre and myself. The second padretold us that, when he arrived in London the firsttime, his English was not very good. The clerk atthe hotel asked him if he wanted his room “with

or without.” He was mystified but he decided tosay “with.” Later that evening when a comelyyoung lady rapped on his door, he understoodwhat “with” meant.

This caused our serious young Frenchman to ob-serve that in wartimes, morals always suffered,His demure young wife spoke up, “What a pitythat there should be a rubber shortage at thesame time.”

One Sunday Fuzzy invited me to go with him tospend the day with his sister at Oxey andBushey. That is a station on the Underground onthe outskirts of London where the railwaycomes above the ground. We had a very pleasantday. Sometime after tea we went down tothe local pub where we had a few drinks and agame of darts. When it came time for usto return we walked down to the station - Fuzzywith his sister and I with her daughter.

When the daughter and I got to the station, thetrain was pulling out with Fuzzy on it. There wasanother in ten minutes. But it was the last. Whenit arrived it was full. I walked down the platformlooking into each compartment, always full. Fi-nally the train started, I opened a door and wasabout to step in when a guard slammed the doorshut. This was serious. This was the last train andEnglish trains pick up speed quickly. I had notime to argue. So I gave the guard a heave andclimbed aboard the train.

At the next station our train stopped and waiteduntil that guard walked to it and then searchedthe train to get my name. What was John Christiegoing to say when he heard of this? He never did.Someone in the Underground management un-derstood.

One day my CSM went on leave. The next seniorNon-commissioned officer was a smart youngsergeant just over from Canada. Because he was


so able he had been held in Canada for two yearsagainst his will. He was experienced in handlingtroops in Zombie Canada. The first day that hewas acting CSM I came on to parade and foundonly about one quarter of our Company strengthmustered.

“Where is everybody, Sergeant?” “Well sir - -“,and then he enumerated where everyone was.The boys, most of whom were old soldiers, hadsized up the situation immediately. There wereall sorts of reasons why it was just intolerablethat they should go on parade that morning. Itold the sergeant that we would postpone ourCompany parade one hour and that I wantedeveryone on it. They were.

I have often heard a lot of nonsense about rela-tions between officers and other ranks. In everyCompany that I ever commanded there weremany men whom I knew that I could rely onwhen the chips were down. There were always afew in each Company that I knew had to bewatched and shepherded into action. But in thenormal dull routine of army life, very often theopposite was true. The men who were resource-ful and dependable in a pinch were the first tocook up some devilment to add a bit of excite-ment to life, that was one of the first lessons that Ilearned from Potts. An other rank was responsi-ble only for what he had been ordered to do. Anofficer was responsible for every contingency.

Most of the incorrigibles in the army congregatedat the Holding Unit. They would get sent to de-tention from the field unit. From detention theycame into the reinforcement stream at the Hold-ing Unit. There the great worry was to keep themon the straight and narrow path long enough toget them back up to the field unit. Quite oftenthis was impossible.

The G.O.C of the rear echelons was as concernedas anyone about the morale of the troops. Orders

came out to crack down on the Absent WithoutLeaves. One of the bad boys was a Toronto Scot-tish private who had just returned to the HoldingUnit after an extended holiday by being AbsentWith out Leave for ninety days. After being away28 days he had been declared a deserter. So aCourt Martial was set up to try him. Whom didhe want to act as his defending officer? This fel-low was an experienced hand. Who was the lastCompany commander to arrive at the HoldingUnit? Major Mersereau of the Cameron High-landers of Ottawa. Then he would have MajorMersereau to defend him. This was arranged.

John Christie had just received a blast fromCMHQ about deserters. He felt that he had a pa-ternal interest in this Toronto Scottish privatewho was one of their original number. So Christiecalled Mersereau into his office and told him thathe wanted a fair trial for the deserter, but he alsowanted that an example be made of him. He did-n’t want Mersereau to upset the Court Martial bysome technical point.

This aroused Mersereau’s ire. He and I roomedtogether. He vowed that he was going to get thedeserter off. How could he possibly do that? Thechap had freely confessed.

Mersereau went to the Canadian NeurologicalHospital at Basingstoke and got a psychiatrist toexamine the Scottish private. This psychiatristtestified, before the Court Martial, that the de-serter was sub-normal and not responsible for hisactions. The Court Martial dismissed the charge.When this went through Part II orders the pay-master was obliged to pay the deserter for thefull time that he had been AWL. I thought thatJohn Christie would go crazy.

Col. Christie had a Great Dane bitch. Huge, pon-derous, fat, old Bess worshipped John and fol-lowed him everywhere. All day long she lay athis feet beneath his desk in the Orderly Room.


Fusedale whose special charge was the mainte-nance of the dignity and decorum of the BattalionOrderly Room, used to get furious about oldBess. On the most awesome occasions, Besswould let off a tremendous fart. In addition to thenoise and stench, Christie would further shatterthe solemnity of the occasion by stopping andsaying, ‘Shame on you Bess.”

Saturday mornings the whole Battalion wouldparade on the square where we would do Battal-ion drill. Rumour had it that John would turnaround and ask: “Do you want to see them marcharound again, Bess?” To which attention old Besswould happily bark. Then Christie would marchus around the parade square again.

One day word came from the SLI. that there wasto be a Mess dinner and that the CommandingOfficer wanted all SLI. officers in England to at-tend. We all went. The Battalion was due to be re-organized in the near future. That meant that itwould be greatly enlarged, Embury had beenaway for some time doing staff work at CorpsHeadquarters. Irvine had been on 2 Canadian In-fantry Brigade staff. They both planned on com-ing back to the Battalion. They arranged to speakat the Mess dinner after everyone had had quite alot to drink. Embury set the pattern in his speechwhen he went out of his way to ridicule and in-sult the Holding Unit. It was one of the most vi-cious performances I have ever witnessed. A caseof building up Battalion morale by ridiculingsomeone else. At that moment the Mess dinnerdegenerated into a mob scene. Scott-Dudley satthere like a happy Buddha. I have never felt sohelpless and cowardly in my life.

In the condition that everyone was in, it was veryunlikely that anyone would have paid heed toanything that I might have said. It was quitelikely that by speaking my mind I would haveonly made a bad situation worse. The next day Icould only apologize to John Christie for what

was said.

While at the Holding Unit I came into contactwith one of the most gratifying ventures that theArmy ever undertook. It was found that in everyBattalion there were a few men with a very lim-ited education. It was almost unbelievable butthere were some native born Canadians with noschooling at all. In conjunction with the AuxiliaryServices, the Army set up a classroom, at theHolding Unit, where a group of these men weregiven from three to six months to complete theirelementary school education, It was a most in-spiring experience to witness the pride and satis-faction of each of these men the day that he wrotehis first letter home. I am sure that all of thosewho were connected with that work are verygrateful for the opportunity that they had andproud of what they accomplished.

One day a group of officers from the HoldingUnit were invited for lunch by the managementof an aircraft factory in the Oxford Reading dis-trict. I do not recall the name of the company,They were making plywood training aircraft. Wetoured the factory. Most of their plywood camefrom Norway. Some from Canada. They said thatthey were able to work to specifications almost asminute as with metal. Their pride was a masterlathe that had been made in Switzerland. It waskept in a special room where the humidity andtemperature were controlled.

At lunch the managing director spoke to us. Ac-cording to decisions made at the level of Roo-sevelt and Churchill, Britain was to concentrateon making fighter aircraft, both operational andtraining. The bulk of the bomber aircraft wouldbe made in the U.S.A.. Bomber aircraft was themost likely to be converted to civilian use. The re-sult would be that after the war, Britain wouldlack the facilities, expertise and experience mostneeded for peacetimeThey had plans on their drawing board ready to


build a 200 ton plywood freighter plane but werenot allowed to build it. We sympathized - whatelse could we do?

Bertie Thompson was to take over the HoldingUnit Company after me. He came to look around.Robinson was in the district on leave, Robbie waswell acquainted. We cooked up the idea of aparty at the Aldershot Officer’s club that evening,Robbie was to arrange for the girls. Bertie and Iwere to meet Robbie with the girls at the home ofGeneral Hill. I had been there once before, butthat night I got lost. We turned into what Ithought were the right gates. The driveway leadinto spacious grounds surrounding a palatialhome, I knew that I was lost. I rang the bell and abutler answered. I asked for directions. The but-ler went for the phone book. I called in Bertje sothat he could see. As we were concluding our di-rections with the butler, Princess Patricia cameinto the hallway and went upstairs.

My tour of duty at the Holding Unit came to anend. In checking out I had to clear my kit withthe Quartermaster. At the beginning of the war,officers had been given a sum of money withwhich to provide themselves with a pistol, binoc-ulars, etc. At this time the policy was changedand officers were issued these things. Now thosebinoculars, which were in short supply, that hadbeen purchased privately, had to be turned intothe Quartermaster stores to be appraised. Aftertheir value had been set they were to be returned.I had my doubts about the returning part, I ob-jected to turning in my binoculars. John Christiewas even more obdurate than I. He would notallow me to leave the Holding Unit until I hadturned in my binoculars I did so. And, as Ithought, I have never heard of them since,


Chapter 20: Frant

When I got back to ACompany in mid Decemberthey were billeted in a boys residential school,Hazelhurst It was a grand set-up. Kitchens, din-ing room, dormitories and gymnasium all in alovely grounds, with playing fields, etc., out inthe country just a mile or so from Frant. TheCompany was in great shape.

During all the time that I had been at the HoldingUnit the Battalion had been taking very strenu-ous physical training. The objective was to travelon foot cross country with fighting kit, ten milesin two hours. It was part of Montgomery’s hard-ening process It was one of the fortunes of warthat I missed all of that period, In any normalgoing I have always been able to do my fullshare. I think that four months of such strenuoustraining would have been too much.

The pub in Frant was quite a pleasant famous oldplace, Abergavenny Arms. One of the firstevenings there I met an elderly chap who wasone of the editors of the famous magazine --Punch. He traveled up to London by train eachday. Two nights a week he did aircraft spottingduty at the local post. His tour of duty was from24.00 hours to 4.00 hours, His routine was to startthe evening off in the pub. When it closed at ll:00p.m he went across the street to the officer’s messof a mobile bath unit, where he would stay tilltime to go on duty. After his time was up at 04.00hours he would go home, bathe, shave, dress,have breakfast and then back to London.

Christmas Day we had a bang up turkey dinnerfor the Company. The boys decorated the halland dining room. It was very festive. ChristmasEve we had a sing-song in the entrance hall.There was a piano and we had several good pi-anists. That was the Christmas season that BingCrosby introduced the song, “White Christmas.”Whenever I hear that song now my thoughts go

back to Hazelhurst.

During all of the period of strenuous trainingthere were three men in the Company who,because of their jobs, had been excused from pa-rades. One was the Company Orderly RoomClerk, another was the Cpl. cook and the thirdwas the Cpl. Driver Mechanic. Early on Christ-mas Eve these three had gathered at the Aber-gavenny Arms for a drink. I suppose that beingas it was Christmas they had a few more or a fewstronger than usual. It seems that the conscienceof each was bothered by the fact that they hadbeen excused the strenuous physical training.They assured each other that they were just asgood soldiers as any in the Battalion. They eachdecided to prove it. On the way home from thepub they had to pass a duck pond. On this partic-ular night there was a quarter of an inch of icecovering the pond. Like the good soldiers thatthey were, they lined up on the edge of the duckpond, and, at the given command, dove into thepond, greatcoats and all. We were singing WhiteChristmas when this sodden, bedraggled andvery sober trio stumbled into the hallway.


Chapter 21: Toward Castle

The SLI. went to the Combined OperationsSchool at Toward Castle, west of Glasgow, to takeBRICK training. This was in improvising a beachto land an army formation and to control themovement of that formation through that beach. Idon’t know why we were sent. In mid 1942, itwas definite enough that we were to be a SupportBattalion that we were sending people on 4.2mortar courses. However the BRICK training wasgood experience. I am sure that our assault land-ing in Sicily went more smoothly because we un-derstood how such actions were planned andcontrolled.

The BRICK consisted of the SLI. and elementsfrom nearly every unit in the 1st Div. I was incharge of the advance party of some sixty, allranks from our Battalion. The Div. order placedme in charge of all of the other advance parties aswell. Of the other units, there were about fortyofficers. Our people had some preparations tomake. All of the officers of all the advance partieshad several days instructions on the routine andwork of the school before the main parties ar-rived. I was a Captain. The other officers weremostly captains, some lieutenants. The Chief In-structor of the school, Major Graves, an English-man, expected us to parade from class to class,from billet to mess, just as body of British officerswould have done. We had a running fight overthat with me in the middle.

This was a British Army school, like all forma-tions of the British Army it was affected by theParsimony of the British tax payer. The chief In-structor, who was the senior officer of the school,had to handle Battalions and Brigades, that is amajor had to push around Lt. Cols andbrigadiers. He should have held the rank of atleast a full Colonel. The result was that, thoughMajor Graves was a very competent man, he wasa frustrated man. I am sure that his manner

would have been less irritating were it that hedid not have to spend so much of his time tryingto persuade people to do things the way he knewthat they should be done.

One of the techniques used at this school was touse a Dutch boat called a schut. This was a flatbottomed ship that was sailed, loaded withstores, at high tide, until it grounded on thebeach. At low tide a metal mesh roadway waslaid over the sandy beach to the ship. Then thestores could be loaded directly from the ship intothe trucks.

One day I was standing on the beach watchingthe schut being unloaded. A voice spoke at myelbow: “Hello son, how are you doing?” I turnedto see Frederick Morgan, wearing the uniform ofa Lieutenant General and surrounded with staffofficers of all ranks. I was even more happy to seehim that he appeared to be on seeing me. “Whatbrings you to a bleak place like this, Sir?” “Oh,they gave me a command of an assault corps. Iheard that the Canadians were up so I came tofind out how to do it.”

Of course the job that he had been given, and wasalready working on, was the planning of the as-sault landing on Normandy.

The climax of our training was in doing a schemein which troops and stores were actually broughtin over a beach. What a hell of an experience. “A”Company had a Navy's job. We unloaded storeswhich in this scheme were thousands of petrolcans filled with water. They were cans that theschool used on all such schemes. Some leaked.And all the night that the scheme lasted it wasraining a real Scotch mist. In order to keep ourend up the boys had to work steadily. Undersuch conditions I had to work with them. I wassoaked to the hide, cold and had muscles achingall over my body.


The next night we had troops to bring throughthe beach as re-inforcements. For this part of thescheme 120 of Our SLI boys had been left back inBexhill. They arrived in Glasgow that evening.Al Ewen one of the school instructors and I metthem in Glasgow. They were to be fed in the mainstation at which they arrived. Then, carryingeverything they had in the world, we were tomarch up hill to the upper level local railway.This would take us to a little rural station near ajetty, There we would load onto an LST whichwould carry us in onto the beach.

The time between the trains was an hour. Thedistance between was a mile mostly uphill with acobblestone paving. The move was quite reason-able for one man. For one hundred and twenty itwas a different matter. Each of us took charge offorty men. Al and I got ours fed and on the way.The boys had had a most uncomfortable trainride from the South of England. Their kits wereheavy, it was raining and the cobblestones wereslippery, About half way up we passed an oldgirl who was on her way home from an eveningin the pub. She called out: “boys is your journeyreally necessary?

To understand the full humour of that remarkone had to have experienced travel the millionsof signs posted in Britain at that time to discour-age unnecessary travel.

We were to travel on the last scheduled train thatnight on that branch line. Al and I got our boysaboard. The train pulled out without the schoolinstructor and his party. We got to our destina-tion, got off, the train pulled out. There was nosettlement at all, just the station. We hadn’t thefoggiest notion where the jetty was. It was black,dark and raining. We phoned back to Glasgowand got in touch with the Transit Officer. Finallythe instructor and his party joined us in trucksThe scheme carried on.

On night five of us went down to the local pubfor an evening. I do not remember who all wewere except that Al Ewen was one of the five. Onthe way to the pub, Al asked us to stand hisround for the evening as he did not have anymoney. The barmaid was a stout Scot of aboutforty years with an accent that was even morepronounced than Al’s. The evening went alongbeautifully until near closing time. Then the bar-maid planted herself in front of Al, arms akimbo“now it’s your turn.” She was upholding the hon-our of the Scots. In our Battalion that became thestandard greeting whenever Al appeared

At the conclusion of the course our Battalion offi-cers staged a party in the local pub in honour ofthe instructors and to celebrate the ending of ahellish course, The pub had quite a large bar. Onthe upper floor was a very good dance floor. Wehad good music. It was a good party. MajorGraves and his wife were there. No one appearedto be taking any responsibility to entertain Mrs.Graves, so I stepped in. She was probably in herforties. Quite a fine woman, very respectable.

We had just finished a turn at dancing and wereon our way downstairs to the bar for a drink. Onthe stairway we passed MacDonald. He spokeup;“Well, Mitch, how are you, doing?” Mrs.Graves turned to me, horrified. “Did you hearwhat that man called me? I am having a goodtime but I am certainly not that.”


Chapter 22: Liphook

Early in the year some eighty all ranks were senton an aircraft recognition course at the ArtilleryDepot at Liphook, I was the senior officer. Theothers were Al Ewen, Everett Bates and JohnHarry. It was a horrible course but it only lastedtwo weeks.

One day while we were there Bates and I lookedup Harry McKenzie from Forgan. McKenzie’sbattery, the 67th LAA from Rosetown had beenbroken up for reinforcements to other units. Hewas feeling very low. Bates was very enthusiasticabout what a fine officer that McKenzie was.

In Liphook is the famous pub called the “An-chor” where Nelson is supposed to have ren-dezvoused with Lady Hamilton. More recentlyChurchill and Eisenhower met there. We had sev-eral evenings there. One evening Ewen, Harryand I had dinner there. Afterwards we got quitedrunk. On the way home John Harry got the ideathat he wanted to play rugby. He would waituntil Al and I had walked ahead. Then he wouldrun and make a flying tackle. After one “Down” Icouldn’t find my fancy wedge cap which had asilver badge on it. We lit matches and crawled allover in the blackout. To placate me, Al threwaway his issue cap. That night his action mademe feel better. Even next day I couldn’t find mycap.

Our move back to the Battalion at Bexhill waslaid on by Army Movement Control. They landedus in Charing Cross Station in London on Satur-day afternoon at 5:00 p.m., with just under anhour to get to Waterloo station. When we got offthe train at Charing Cross the whole platformand station was one seething mass of humanityEveryone of us had his full kit with him. Baggageparties and the like were out, It was a case ofeveryone getting his kit out of the station to thetrucks at the gate as best he could. Those were

my orders. We officers rounded up a baggagecart and pushed our own kits out to the waitingtrucks. John Harry was furious. The gross indig-nity of Empire commissioned Officers having tolug their own kit through the heart of the Empire.

Soon after we got back from Liphook I went onleave with the navy. This time it was on a RN de-stroyer that was doing convoy duty in the Eng-lish channel. There were four naval officers onboard and myself. This was a very efficient shipbut there was not the casual camaraderie that Ihad found aboard the Naval Reserve Mine-sweeper. On this destroyer the only time that Icould get the Skipper to open up and talk waswhen I mentioned Mountbatton' s name. Then hewould wax eloquently in praise for a few min-utes.

The third day out, I developed a boil on the backof my neck. There was no medical officer aboardship and I thought that I was going to go crazybefore I got off it. When I got back to the Battal-ion the Medical Officer lanced my neck. I askedhim what caused my boils, “If you would washyour bloody neck once in awhile you wouldn’tget boils,” I don’t know whether I have hada similar infection again but always since I haveused generous amounts of soap and waterwhenever I felt something like a boil developing.Always it has disappeared.


Chapter 23: Bishop Stortford

Almost immediately on my return from leave Iwas dispatched on a War Office course for in-structors on aircraft recognition - boils and all.There was a little WAC medical orderly therewho dressed my boils daily. After the first week Iwas out of misery.

This was one of the crazy things that happenedduring the War. I had never had any training orexperience as an instructor. I had had the recogni-tion course at Liphook, but that was the extent ofmy knowledge of aircraft. This was a War Officecourse for instructors. I was the only Canadianthere. There were two Americans. All the restwere Britishers everyone of whom had been en-gaged in the Air Defence of Great Britain for atleast two years. They were instructors in AircraftRecognition . The Canadian who should havebeen on this course was the instructor whom wehad had at Liphook. I don’t know how our Bat-talion was given the course opening, but I sus-pect that I was chosen because the course wasdescribed as being long enough that I would bestruck off the strength of the Battalion, it was asmooth way of getting rid of me. However on ar-riving at Bishop Stortford I discovered how longthe course was. I phoned the Adjutant Bob Wil-son. He rescinded my SOS return.

That was my worst period in the Army. Just as abit of a freshener they would flash pictures ofwing tips, tail units, etc., on the screen for a fewseconds we were supposed to identify them.There would follow long dreary sessions on les-son plans, practical demonstration etc. I spentevery waking moment studying. I don’t thinkthat the Battalion ever did get a report on my per-formance. It Was likely too severe a strain on in-ternational relations.

According to the two American officers, whowere on this course, it had been great good luck

that the North African Assault landings had metwith such little opposition. According to them,the first people ashore on one beach were thenurses. The Americans got into trouble on all thebeaches because the first thing that they did, be-fore leaving their ships, was, with true Americandisdain for physical labour, throw away theirshovels. When they did hit opposition, they hadno way to protect themselves.

At the conclusion of the course, the Chief Instruc-tor talked with each of us, going over our partic-ular circumstances and making suggestions forthe bettering of Instruction in our Units. When Igot back to Bexhill, I reported to Scott-Dudley. Hesuggested that I give my report to Embury whowas now second in command. I went to him. Hesaid he would call on me when he needed the ad-vice. Then I was given command of a 4.2 inchmortar Battery in the re-organized Battalion, Inever did shoot a plane with a mortar.


Chapter 24: Heavy Mortars

My Battery Second in command was PhilStaynor. Phil was one of the smartest soldiers thatour Battalion produced. His father had been a palof George Pearkes during the First War. Phil hadjoined the SLI. in ‘39 as a private. He was one ofthe first to be recommended for commissionedrank. After coming out of Officer Cadet TrainingUnit, Pearkes had taken Phil for a period as hisAide de Camp. Phil had just recently come backfrom a 4.2 mortar course at Netheravon. It was apeculiar set-up. My relations with BattalionHeadquarters were well known. Phil couldhardly afford to be too friendly with me. How-ever, we got on well together.

Then followed a really phony period in our Bat-talion’s life. We were reorganized as a SupportBattalion with Vickers, Oerlikon AA guns and 4.2mortars. We had four mortars without dial sights.Because they were not complete, Battalion Head-quarters decreed that we would not do any mor-tar training. In spite of our protests this went onfor some time. Then one day orders came fromDivision for our Battalion to move the Doune intwo weeks time. All hell broke loose. For sixteenhours per day we trained with our mortars andgot ready to move.

As we were now moving into action we had toshed much that we had personally accumulated

That June morning in 1943, when we left Bexhillfor Scotland, I left my steamer trunk and suit casesitting on the lawn in front of my billet in Bexhill.The next time that I saw them was in Winnipeg inMarch, 1945, The kit storage people in the Cana-dian Army were among the unsung heroes of thewar. They did a marvelous job.

At Doune, in Scotland, we were completely out-fitted for war, We finally got all of our weapons,We still had not fired the mortars. We were given

a range on which to practice. The day that ourBattery was to shoot the Division Commander,General Simmonds, came down to watch. PhilStaynor had the platoon commanders with theirOP parties. Scott-Dudley and Simonds watchedat the OP with them, Embury came along also.Instead of allowing me to stay on the mortar line,Embury ordered me to accompany him. This wasstupid and I should have refused. The officers atthe mortar line were reinforcements They hadnever even seen a 4.2 mortar before. Two of thesergeants had had mortar training but since theofficers and sergeants, were strangers one shouldnot have expected them to work well together thefirst time.

Embury and I stood at a respectful distance fromthe GOC at the Op where Phil was coaching theOp Officers. They bedded in, they ranged on thetarget. Everything seemed fine. Then they or-dered two rounds mortar fire. I thought that wehad had it. Bombs dropped all around us. I don’tsuppose that Simmonds was ever exposed togreater danger. Embury and I went stormingback to the mortar line. He raged up and downthe mortar line. He was going to court martial theSOB who was responsible. The Poor reinforce-ment officers were terrified. What I could neverunderstand was how Embury could have the gallto carry on like that, when it was so obvious toeveryone that he didn’t know enough to be ableto say who was at fault. One trip down the mor-tar line and I could see with my naked eye thatthe right zero lines were not parallel. I whisperedto Sgt. Brown to get the damn things right.

We were at Doune for about two weeks. I thinkthat the leave business was handled very badly.Everyone was in a terrific flap. Then at the verylast moment we got permission for a number ofseventy two hour passes They were wonderfulfor those boys who had married in Britain.

A couple of days before we learned of these


passes some of our boys were AWL for severalhours. It was a bit of stupid nonsense becausethey did not do anything. One of them was a Sig-naler. He was a confirmed Cpl. and I couldn’tpunish him. All that I could do was charge him,and send him before the Commanding Officer.The likely result would be that I would lose agood signal corporal. I didn’t want to do that. SoI simply told him that he was going to lose hisnext leave. Then we learned about the 72 hourpasses. The Signaler came in to plead for a pass.His young wife had just given birth to a child.“You have had your Pass, Corporal. “ That signalCorporal was one of the first in our Battery to bekilled in action.

The night before we were to leave camp to em-bark we had a party in 2 Group mess. Emburydropped in. The thought occurred to me that wemight never meet again, I thought that it wouldbe terrible if we parted without having a frankappraisal of each other. So I arranged to get Em-bury off in a corner of the mess alone. Very qui-etly and without heat, I told him what a uselessindividual that I thought him to be. He listenedto me very patiently. Then he reciprocated bytelling me exactly what he thought of me. It wasnot complimentary. We had thought to get thisover without disturbing the Mess, however,everyone listened in an awful silence

To embark we were separated into different par-ties. Our trucks and carriers went on transportships. Phil Staynor and the left out of battle’swent on another ship. I, with the pared downfighting elements of the battery were to go ashorein amphibious trucks called DUKW’S. Thesewere driven by English Army Service Corps driv-ers. They were to leave us at the end of the firstday of fighting, we were to go ashore with the as-sault waves of the 2 Canadian Infantry Brigade.However, the ships carrying the 2 Canadian In-fantry Brigades did not have sufficiently strongdavits to hoist our DUKW’S so we were loaded

on the ship carrying the R22 Regiment of the 3Canadian Infantry Brigade.

That was the beginning of a running fight withthe Navy. The Navy was in charge of us until weset foot on land. A naval officer was to lead usashore at the right spot. However, the Captain ofour Ship couldn’t see what difference it madewhere we got ashore so long as we got there. Itwas just as important to kill Germans in one spotas in another. I think that he suspected me ofcowardice when I insisted that we must land onthe 2 Canadian Infantry Brigade beach.

We boarded our ship in Glasgow. The DUKW’Sand stores were all aboard when we got there ourfirst discovery was that we had the wrongDUKW's. ICIB DUKW and stores had beenloaded on our ship,

However, we were to do a full dress rehearsal ofour assault landing the next day, We arranged toget things sorted out then.

Next day the trial landing went off as planned.We got our DUKW’S sorted out. Everyoneseemed happy. To go back aboard ship we wereeach to report to the Embarkation Staff Officer. Itwas his job to arrange transportation back, We re-ported. “God I wish that everyone was as easy tohandle as you people see that ship out there?“Well, that is Your ship. Good luck,”

The ship lay at anchor. It looked like about twomiles away. Actually it was about six miles out,and our DUKW’S only carried enough gasolinefor about 8 to 10 miles of sea travel. There was anodd wave but then land lubbers expected to seewaves on the ocean. We struck out to our ship.The further out we got the rougher the waterseemed to get. We bobbed about like corks. Fi-nally we reached our ship. The Captain was furi-ous. What kind of God Damned fools were we.Didn’t we know that the water was too rough for


him to pick us up with his davits. He had to pickus up. We didn’t have gas enough to get usashore again.

Finally he agreed to take us aboard. I never real-ized what a tricky business it was. We got closeand scrambled up rope ladders. With both theship and the DUKW bobbing up and down, evengetting started up that ladder was something,Getting the DUKW’S hooked on was terrible.When they were finally aboard most of the davitshad suffered and one was bent, horribly. Theskipper held me personally responsible for thedamage to his fine ship.

Because of the davits we had had to load with 3Canadian Infantry Brigade. Our packet of orderswere on the 2 Canadian Infantry Brigade ship. Sowhen the eventful day came to open the sealedpackets We didn’t have any orders or maps. Lt.Col. Bernatchez was Commanding Officer of theR22R. He looked after all of our’ needs. In spiteof the mix-up we were well cared for. That trip toSicily was one of the most luxurious trips that Ihave ever taken. There was plenty of room foreveryone. And the food was wonderful. The cookbaked fresh rolls every day. I have never tastedsuch delicious rolls anywhere. Of course we hadjust left war rationed England with its wholewheat flour. Only the finest Canadian white flourwas used on this ship. After the months of dullEnglish weather it was wonderful to soak up thebeautiful sunshine. Even the prospect of encoun-tering the mosquitoes about which we weregiven dire warnings seemed pleasant


Chapter 25: The Assault on Sicily

It is difficult for one landlubber to explain to an-other the majesty of the convoy of ships that as-sembled in the Mediterranean on the 9th of July,1943. Fast ships, slow ships, big ships, little ships,merchant ships, warships ships fromAmerica,ships from the ports of Great Britain ships fromNorth Africa. In every direction, as far as the eyecould see, there were ships of every kind imagi-nable. The magic of that confluence inspired con-fidence in everyone The mass of a great shipsuggests an inexorable force that dwarfs the punyefforts of a human. A great convoy such as thisone was suggestive of the universe itself.

The morning that we landed at Pachino was darkand windy. It was very early when the variousdetachments began taking their place to disem-bark. In Spite of the excitement there was an un-real dreaminess about the occasion that, even theirritating French Canadian accent of the staff offi-cer, who was controlling the disembarkation overthe ship loudspeakers, did not dispel. We got intoour DUKW’S and were lowered onto the water,We hit it with a crash. Then we were off into thedarkness bobbing about furiously. I wore a pairof hand made boots that morning. I stood on theoutside of the craft and got them soaked. Laterthe treads rotted and my boots fell apart. Most ofour boys were under the canvas top of theDUKW. They sat there, knife in hand, ready toslash their way out should the DUKW sink.

A Sub-Lieutenant of the RNVR lead us ashore Wewere to land when the immediate beach wascleared. The signal was to be a green verey light.it seems that the Italians and German had notbeen told. At least they did not co-operate as faralong the coast of Sicily as we could see theenemy fired off green verey light. It was hopeless.A year later, while awaiting a zero hour, a groupof our boys got talking about the time that theyhad been most frighten. Sgt. Goldsworthy said

that that morning we landed at Pachino he hadbeen very frighten. Turning to me, “and by Godyouse was too.” I carried a rifle that morning.After we got underway, I released the safetycatch so that I would be ready for anything. Inmy nervousness, I discharged a round. That wasa very poor example to set but it was a goodthing for me. It made me realize what a state Iwas in and thereafter I made a conscious effort tocontrol myself. After we had set sail the bom-bardment began. That was terrific. First there wasa flash from the warships that seemed to light upeverything. Then there were swishes overhead.Then the whole coastline seemed to literally riseup momentarily to be followed by clouds ofsmoke. Then came the report of the guns on theship to be followed by the sound of the explo-sions on land. It was stupendous as we got closerto shore geysers of water began shooting uparound us. It took a moment for it to register thatthose geysers were enemy shells being fired onus. The little RNVR officer got lost. He turned tome to know if he could take us directly ashore.By this time I recognized some beach markers tothe left. We sailed a mile further down shore andlanded. We had gotten ashore at the right spot.

The DUKW's were wonderful vehicles. Theywere six wheeled trucks ashore They went up thesandy beach quite easily. Once ashore everythinglooked pitiful. Everything was so dry and dustyThe trees were stunted. The house were pitiful lit-tle stone huts. As the day progress the air becamechokingly hot. We quickly deployed and I wentoff in search of Brigade Headquarters. The firstperson I recognized was J.D. MacKintosh. He hadan advance dressing station set up. As soon as hesaw me he could only think of getting the mor-tars into action. He lead me off in search of tar-gets.

That day our mortars proved themselves Theydid many shoots that demonstrated their worthto Brig. Vokes. It turned out that over one third of


our transport had been lost at sea. Newberry’splatoon did good shoots with only one three tontruck as the sole platoon transport.

For my part, I was disillusioned by BrigadeHeadquarters intelligence. Besides the targetsgiven to the platoons by the infantry I was get-ting targets from Brigade throughout the day.Three times, that day I was ordered by BrigadeHeadquarters to fire on a target, I investigatedthe target only to find that it was our own troopson the flank.

The last mistaken target given me that day wasnear Princess Patricia’s Canadian Light InfantryPositions. The sun had just set. The “enemy”were in a neighbouring grove of trees. Theystarted lighting campfires Col. Lindsay and I con-cluded that only Canadians would do such athing. They were Hastie Ps.

That evening Phil Staynor joined us. He cametrekking across country on foot all alone. Suchphysical exertions in that intense heat were an or-deal for us.

We spent that first night within sight of thebeaches on which we had landed. Later in thenight Jerry raided the beach. There were terrificfireworks.

We did not get all of our transport until monthslater. Some of those who did arrive had great tri-als. Brady, who drove the Company Order RoomHUP, had the misfortune to waterlog it. On hisown initiative and with the help of the Sig Cpl,Griffiths he got a tow out of the sea into a se-cluded spot. There, with what tools he couldscrounge, he took his motor all apart and washedthe sea water out of it. Then he put it togetherand drove into Battery Headquarters only a daylate. Pretty good for a couple of kids just out ofschool.

Vehicle replacements caused a great deal of trou-ble. Our Battery had left England with a lightscale of transport. Over one third of it was sunkat sea. Amonth later we still had not had themreplaced. I happened to visit Battalion Headquar-ters at the DMA. Scott~Dudley had justscrounged a 15 cwt truck and was having a cara-van built on it for himself. The Canadian armyHeadquarters at all levels went caravan crazy.One could hardly accuse the people back inCanada with indifference when the rear echelonsof the Army in action we so selfish.

The next day or so we did not see much action.We moved great distances in convoy. One timewe made a night move. I was following a route ofmy own choosing on the map. I picked one roadthat was listed as a fairly good one. It may havebeen a good road in Nero’s time. That night it fi-nally petered out into a donkey path throughgreat boulders. The centre of the path was a ditchfrom which all earth had been washed away. Itwas black dark and there wasn’t room to turn atruck around. We had to wait until daylight to getout of that dead end.

On the 14th of July, most of the 2 Canadian In-fantry Brigade gathered on parade and were vis-ited by Montgomery, He warned us against thesun, and told us how happy he was to have uswith him. Most of the officers were introduced tohim, I was introduced as Brigade Mortar officerMonty’s rejoinder was,“They are not very accu-rate are they?” Vokes quickly spoke up. “Oh youare wrong sir, we think that the mortars are firstrate.” One year later, after Montgomery had goneback to England we were inspected by Sir OliverLeese who had taken over the 8th Army. He toldus the background to Montgomery's opinion of4.2 mortars. According to Leese, when Mont-gomery set up the Battle of El Alamien he goteverything together that was in Egypt, thatwould make a bang. They had a battery of 4.2mortars that were part of a Chemical Warfare


unit. The officer commanding these mortars toldthe 8th Army people that he could only guaran-tee which map square of 1,000 yards that hisbombs would fall in, so Montgomery had writtenoff the 4.2 mortars.

I did many shoots with 4.2 mortars, with one ex-ception I was prepared to compete for accuracyand speed with the 25 pdr artillery. That excep-tion was if a tail unit came off the mortar bomb,Then mortars were unpredictable.

There were not many roads in Sicily that weregood. During our first moves tanks and truckstried to follow the same roads. This slowed upmovement a great deal. Then Gen. Simonds or-dered that the tanks must stay off the roads andmove cross country. I have often wondered howmuch that edict cost the taxpayer. In some partsof Sicily there were so many stones that stonewalls up to eight feet high had been built aroundeach little field. One night our convoy wasstopped by a tank squadron at a cross roads. Thetank commander was trying to figure out whichwall he should break

One day, near Piazza Amerina, I was leading theBattery convoy. We stopped for a rest, PhilStaynor had taken the platoon commanders andgone on ahead to reconnoiter our new positions.deFaye and I went ahead to meet Vokes. Whilethere Simonds came along in a jeep. It was flatbushy country and we couldn’t see much. Whilewe were talking at the roadside a Jerry mortarstarted bombing us. We huddled in the roadsideditch, then Vokes Spoke up, “Mitchell, where areyour mortars?" “Just down the road a bit, Sir,”“Get that bastard."

I had a radio that enabled me to talk to my pla-toon commanders and to Brigade Headquarters.But I could not talk to my mortar line, the pla-toon commanders had the forward link of thatnet with them. However, I had a Dispatch Rider

and I sent a message back to Sgt. Brown to set upa section of mortars on a certain zero line. Butthen I had no idea where the mortar was in thatflat bushy country. I was just trying to figure thatone out, when a Princess Patricia’s CanadianLight Infantry private came to me: “Sir, I knowwhere that mortar is. I was in the bush relievingmyself when he fired."

What a Godsend. So I figured out the first rang-ing shot and sent word back by Dispatch Rider. Itwas close and the next corrected order was formortar fire I don’t know whether I scored a hit ornot. But I silenced the Jerry mortar. Both Simondsand Vokes drove away satisfied. Just as we werefinishing our shoot Phil Staynor returned sadlyand patiently he explained to me, “Mitch that isnot the way to use mortars.”

After the cool moist climate of Britain, I found theheat and dust very difficult. I like warmth, butthis heat, at times, was searing. My nose startedto bleed. I couldn’t stop it. I messed up all myhandkerchiefs. Blood spilled over my face andbush shirt.

The convoy stopped for a twenty minute rest. Ilaid down on the road in the shade of the truck.Phil Staynor came up from the back of the com-pany convoy. When he saw me stretched out andcovered with blood he was sure that I had beenhit.

I got over my nose bleed and got diarrhea. Thatwas even worse as it was painful as well. In con-voy, I couldn’t stop, when taken with seizures.Several times, when the convoy did stop, I wouldget behind a bush and throw away my under-wear. That, too, cleared up. Many of our boyswere hospitalized before they were cured.

Most improved Italian roads were “grave1led”with broken up limestone that was like chalk. Itseemed that one man would be in charge of a sec-


tion of road. We would see these individuals, sit-ting by the roadside, breaking up stones, into eggsized pieces, with which to repair the road. Un-less rain was actually falling, any vehicle wouldraise a dust. To minimize the dust, vehicles nearthe “front” moved at fifteen miles per hour. Inspite of all precautions, everyone and everythingwas covered with a pail of dust.

One of the moments of supreme physical bliss ofmy life was bathing at midnight from a pail ofwater after a day on the road in the hot sun.

After the beach, our first severe action came atLeonforte. The Brigade had been advancing asnormal and were stopped here. A new plan hadto be devised, I went to a Seaforth Orders Group.I got there just after a Jerry salvo had landed inthe midst of the officers. The medical people stillhadn’t treated everyone. I can still see one officer.a fine young Canadian man, alive, lying on hisside on the ground, shocked into immobility forthe moment, his hands near his face, his legs andfeet together, the only thing that was wrong wasthat his legs from below his knees to above hisankles were completely gone. Just as clean ascould be. His clothes were not damaged andthere was very little blood. His boots were evenpolished

Part of the plan to attack Leonforte was that wewere to try to set fire to the buildings with oursmoke bombs. It turned out that the buildingswere nearly all of stone with a tile roof. Burningwas almost impossible. But we did completelyblank out the town with smoke and we inter-spersed our smoke with HE. They couldn’t seemuch and we encouraged them to stay indoors

When we finally pushed on, it was the first timethat I came into contact with putrid human flesh.On the approaches to Leonforte were many Ger-man dead who had been killed in the first en-counter.

At Nissoria, I met Sammy Potts for the first time.He was a Princess Patricia’s Canadian Light In-fantry platoon commander. He had quite a battlethere, Phil knew him well and we spent an houror so with him.

Agira was much more difficult. First go theSeaforths tried to take it and one of our mortarplans did a shoot in support of them. The shoothad to be done from a very exposed position. Itold the platoon commander to do his shoot andthen get out. This he did. The Seaforths got theidea that they were running away and com-plained bitterly. Vokes made a special point ofseeing me. “Mitchell, don’t you ever do thatagain.”

Later I took de Faye to examine the mortar Posi-tion from where they had fired. There was not asquare yard of ground that did not have at leastone shell crater in it. I could understand the feel-ing of the Seaforths to have such a bombardmentcome near them. I was very happy that I hadmoved our boys out of that position.

One of our dispatch riders did a marvelous job inthat show. Just before the shoot I sent a messagewith him to the platoon commander. As he rodedown the road he was actually blasted off of hismotorcycle. Unperturbed he got up, mounted hisbike and continued on.

ADivisional barrage was set up to take Agira,Our mortars took part. We had our mortar line ina depression on the left of the main road. Theshoot was at night. Because of our shorter rangethe mortars were in front of the artillery.

No one can properly describe a barrage. Thereare the flashes and explosions of the guns behind.There are the hissing and swishing of the shellspassing overhead There are the flashes and ex-plosions ahead. All mixed up in one continuousdin. One cannot help feeling uneasy,


The shoot started on schedule. Because of therange, the mortars stopped after the first halfhour. At the very beginning of the barrage I no-ticed that one 25 pdr was away off range and wasfiring directly behind us. Every few minutes thatoff beat 25 pdr came closer to our mortar positionWe finished our shoot and I ordered our boys offthe mortar position. By this time the 25 pdr wasreally close. Each explosion lighted our Position.Then somebody in the reserve infantry Battalionbehind us got into a flap seeing the shell explo-sions and seeing us running for cover, he openedup with his Bren gun. What an eternity I lived inthose few moments. To hide from the Bren bul-lets, I had to get on Jerry’s side of the rocks. Bythis time German shells were falling into ourmortar position as well.

Which side’s shells started it I will never know.But two of our trucks caught fire. Our vehicleswere not too well dispersed. There was dangerthat we would lose several more. I simply had toget out of my shelter. I jumped out and called forhelp to save the vehicles, Sgt. Fortman our SignalSgt. came to help me. He drove the vehicles towhere I directed. Not until that moment did I re-alize that I didn’t even know how to start a car-rier, However, we got all the vehicles moved,save the burning two. By this time the fire wasstrong enough that mortar bombs were explod-ing. I dove into a nearby slit trench and then real-ized my mistake, Bombs were bursting andthrowing other bombs up into the air. Thesebombs were falling all around me. Whether it ex-ploded or not it wouldn’t have mattered muchhad I been hit on the head with a 19 lb. bomb.

I was very pleased to see Fortman decorated byMontgomery for his job that night. Agira com-manded a long view of the countryside. Our OP’swere there for a couple days.

After coming off one tour of duty Ossie New-berry asked permission to take a motorcycle and

ride forward to make a reconnaissance of thefront. We never found out what happened him.He just disappeared bike and all. It was very oddas he had been working in close liaison with theinfantry. He must have known their dispositionsas well as anyone. Phil and I took a motorcycleand made a reconnaissance for mortar positionsforward of Agira. While there, Jerry threw downa hate. We sought refuge in a farm house. There,children and chickens were running about thefloor.

From under the bed came a whimpering that Ithought came from a frightened dog. It turnedout to be grandma. She was almost out of hermind with fright of the exploding shells.

Phil took the platoon commanders forward andshowed them their positions. I brought the bat-tery forward under cover of darkness. I knew theway well. We came upon someone with a lightwho was diverting the traffic. I knew that therewas not a diversion. I suspected a fifth columnist.I drew my revolver and was prepared to shoot.However, it was a bona fide military provostguiding traffic around a huge shell crater in themiddle of the road that had been blasted since Ihad traveled the road. That poor fellow neverknew how close he came to grief.

The next town, Regalbuto, fell quickly, but wewere held up beyond it for several days. Threedays in a row, after Regalbuto had been taken,the American Air Force came over and bombedthe town of Regalbuto. That was not funny. Somemonths later, while on leave, I learned what hadhappened, from an English officer. At the begin-ning of the action he and other British officershad been seconded to the American Air Force forintelligence duties, simply because the Americansdid not have enough trained for that work. Hesaid two influences worked against them. Onewas the disdain the pilots of any air force for thewingless wonders who gathered around base


Headquarters. The other was the reluctance ofAmericans to take an Englishman’s advice. Hesaid it took the personal intervention of Eisen-hower himself to force those pilots to look at themap of the battlefront, that he had so painstak-ingly kept up to date, before they went out on amission.

Soon after 1st Division went into a rest area. Wewere at Militello for about three weeks. That wasa splendid break which enabled us to get ourtrucks and stores into shape. And it gave us anopportunity to brush up on weaknesses in train-ing that had been found. We were authorized todo some range work with our mortars.

The problem was to find a spot in this thicklypopulated country where we would not injureany people. From our camp we could see a rangeof hills, some five miles away, that were coveredwith great boulders. That surely was the spot.When we got there, we found a large field cov-ered with rocks as large as a truck. In between theground was covered with stones the size of aman’s head so thickly that you could hardly putyour foot down without touching one. There, inthat desolate spot, an old Italian and his twowomen were harvesting wheat by hand.

We chose a valley for our range. We arrangedwith the Carabineri that, at the time that we fired,the people would move out. They were all noti-fied. They refused to move. We did our firing intothe open areas and avoided the buildings. No onewas hurt. Incidentally there was a road in thisvalley that was incorrectly mapped. The map wasout nearly 19 degrees. That was the only error inthe issue maps that I noticed in the Italian cam-paign.

While we were at Militello, Gifford Main joinedus. Giffy and Reggie Rankin were great pals.They proceeded to get tight. Reggie helped to putGiffy to bed, since Giffy was new to the country

and did not know the dangers of mosquitoes.Poor Giffy. Reggie plastered him with mosquitoointment, filling eyes, nose and mouth.

Every hovel and mansion in Sicily and southernItaly seemed to have an ornate bed spreadwhether there was anything else or not.

I wanted a Souvenir of the country. So I toldPopp to buy me a bedspread. He got one for fivedollars There may have been something else, butthat was all that I knew of. We still have that bed-spread on our bed. Afterwards I also got a goatherdman’s horn. That was loot.

My batman driver Popp, found a saxophone. Thereed was missing so he made one for it that wasquite successful. Poulton was an officer who hadjust come to us from Canada. He had played asaxophone in an orchestra in Vancouver. He hadhis saxophone with him, but it needed a newreed. He asked Popp to make a reed for him. Philoverheard the conversation and reported to me inhigh glee. Poulton was just out of the Officer’sTraining course in Canada Popps reply flabberg-ing him. “Oh sir, I haven’t got time to fuckaround with such things.”

During the Italian campaign I had two batmandrivers, Popp and Joe Nault. Each was invalu-able. Nault was a fresh young western Canadianboy whose morals were never affected, by mili-tary life. Popp was the same type, ten years older.Both were very versatile and, if necessary coulddo a reasonable job at almost anything. Eachcould speak Italian fluently which meant that itwas never necessary for me to learn Italian well.Popp came ashore with me in Sicily. Until all ofour personnel and transport joined us, he actedas barber, shoemaker and what have you.


Chapter 26: The Assault On Italy

2 Canadian Infantry Brigade crossed into Italy asthe reserve Brigade in Reggio, we were bombed.That night I slept on the pavement because I did-n’t like the smell of the houses. The householderswere shocked to see el Capitano in such circum-stances. We then crossed over into the instep andour way up the boot of Italy. We didn’t encountermuch opposition until we got to Poteflza. Thedevastation of the railway, by aerial bombing,was terrific all along the way.

Road mines were an ever present danger. Usuallythere were simple mines with explosives in ametal container. The detonator was set off by con-tact. Our people had a mine detector. It was like adish on the end of a broom handle. Electrical im-pulses set off a whine when metal was close, butthere were variations in mines. Some were en-closed in wood or plastic which could not be de-tected. Some were detonated by a ratchet systemwhich could be set to explode after a predeter-mined number of vehicles had depressed themechanism. In one ten foot section of the road Isaw three vehicles blown up the same day. Asquadron of tanks had gone over the road. Thesecond truck in the convoy was blown up. Theengineers searched and found nothing. Fiftymore trucks passed and then another explosionMore searching, twenty more vehicles safelypassed then another explosion.

Not only were there casualties. The effect of suchuncertainty on morale was very great. We keptthe floor of our truck cabs covered with sandbagsMany times we had trucks blown up withoutanyone being hurt.

One of our platoons found a German kitchentrailer. It was a very ingenious vehicle. There wasa place for everything that the cook used. To setup camp he swung open folding doors, openedup a canopy and he had a room with built-in

cupboards in which to work. The platoon took italong. One day, in our convoy, the trailer hitchbroke near a hair pin turn in the road. The trailerwent over the bank and down about two hun-dred feet. Driving along we had not noticed anyItalians about. Minutes after the trailer brokeloose there were at least one hundred and practi-cally everything of the trailer and its’ load haddisappeared.

Somewhere close to Potenza word came throughof J.D. McKenzie’s promotion to Captain. Almostthe same day he discovered aste Spumanti - anItalian champagne. He bought two cases of largebottles before the natives raised the price. He wethis pipes for about twenty-five cents per quart ofaste Spumanti.

North of Potenza was a very high village calledCastel where we saw action. When we arrivedthere on our reconnaissance we found a Germanstore of electrical equipment. There were severalcomplete lighting plants and some spare parts.

The fighting took place beyond Castel. BecauseCastel was high it was the natural O.P. It was avery unreal set up. The front line was a mile or sofurther on, in the valley. On the side of the villagefacing the valley was the road leading into thevalley which had a stone wall about two feet highand parallel to the front, a perfect vantage point.Our mortars were in a good position near the vil-lage. The machine guns were on a little hill in thevalley near the infantry. Our AACompany, com-manded by Wes Winters, had just arrived fromSicily. Wes had not seen any real action yet andwas anxious to get his “feet wet.” Gordon Boothwas going forward to visit his machine guns. WesWinters went along with him. McKenzie and Ifound a store of German ersatz coffee. We sat onthe roadside wall grinding our coffee with a littlehand grinder and watched Gordon and Wes. Itwas almost like being in a theatre. Simonds camealong and JD and I had to hide our coffee grinder.


Gordon and Wes got to the machine guns with-out incident. But, while they were there, somedamn fool, from the infantry echelons, droveright up beside the machine guns, on top of thelittle hill, with a three ton truck. Jerry shelled thehell out of that position. Wes surely got his feetwet. JD and I were almost beside ourselves withamusement.

On our trip up to Potenza we came across manyGerman campsites. One position had been left ina terrible condition. There was refuse and tincans from the kitchen and a great number ofmaps spread about. One of our re-inforcementswas a Capt. MacRobie who was an RCR officer.In England one of our headaches had been takingover billets from other units. Surveying this mess,at the German campsite, MacRobie twirled hismustache and said: “I suppose that we will spendthe rest of this war cleaning up billets after theFourteenth Potsdam Regiment.”

Almost as soon as our full strength joined ourBattalion, Scott-Dudley laid on a Mess dinner forthe officers at Benevento. It was held in the largemarquee and was quite successful. For me it wasmemorable as it was the first time that I saw Em-bury after Doune.

“Hello Mitch! I never had much use for you buteveryone says that you are one hundred per cent.That is good enough for me.” How can you hatea person like that?

One night we had moved up close to VinchiaturoCrossroads in a Group Convoy. We moved off theroad and bedded down. Jerry began shelling us.One of Wes Winters men was struck with a pieceof shrapnel. Wes saw that it was only a minor cutand went back to bed. Meantime MacRobie,Wes’s Second in command, was wandering aboutand came upon the “wounded man.” MacRobiestarted to scream for Wes. “What’s the matter?”"One of our men has been wounded” “Oh, he is

only scratched. That doesn’t matter much.” “No,but they can’t do that to our men.”

The Battalion Headquarters of the Saskatoon L. I.were in charge of the Divisional MaintenanceArea. The next morning we were amazed to seeEmbury pass us with some big transport trucksfrom Divisional Maintenance Area. I guess thatthey must have been almost looking into the bar-rels of Jerry’s guns before they realized wherethey were. They got out of the front line withoutserious injury.

Another story Embury tells. He was looking oversome buildings that he had taken for BattalionHeadquarters. In one room he came upon aBritish Army Sgt. having intercourse with an Ital-ian girl. Embury is still indignant. “You knowthat SOB never stopped. He never even stood toattention.”

After the crossroads were taken JD McKenzie andan English artillery officer went forward in JD’sjeep, on a reconnaissance. After driving so farthey got out and walked. When they returned tothe jeep, they found their driver in the hands of aGerman patrol. Soon they were also. The patrolleader sent the two officers back to the GermanHeadquarters in the charge on one soldier. Thissoldier proved to be rather sloppy. He allowedthe officers to talk. They soon discovered that theGerman did not understand English. So theyarranged a plan and took their captor by sur-prise.

I was driving back from the Seaforth’s Headquar-ters when I saw JD running across country. Hewore battle dress trousers and a bush shirt. Withhis huge mustache he reminded me of Joe Stalin.I couldn’t help laughing at him. I took him toBrigade Headquarters. There Vokes greeted himby saying: “What did you do with the German?Why didn’t you bring him back?”


The Seaforths were to take Baranello and ourmortars were to help. The mountains on the rightwere supposed to be held by I CIB. Nobody hadtold the Germans. Our boys set up their mortarsin a clump of trees right in plain view of the Ger-man OP. Fortunately they dug in well first. Thenthey did their shoot on Baranello. They finishedand dove into their slit trenches. For nearly halfan hour, Jerry shelled them. Bell-Irving, Secondin command, of the Seaforths, told me I couldmove them. I said no thank you. They came outof their slit trenches, after the shelling finished,without a scratch.

After Baranello, JD McKenzie took his platoonwith mules for transport, over land to help in thefight for Colle d’anchisse. They only took oneday’s rations, it was several days before we wereable to reach them with transport. We thoughtthat they would be in a bad way for food. How-ever, when the ration truck reached them, JD’splatoon had turkeys, chicken and calves ontether. They had eaten better than we had.

About this time Hoffmeister had taken commandof 2 Canadian Infantry Brigade. At one Italianfarm Tommy de Faye bought a bunch of turkeys.He sent them back to Roy Blake, the Quartermas-ter, for him to keep. Next day Tommy droppedinto Brigade Headquarters “Would the Brigadierlike a turkey?”

“Yes I would.” So Tommy sent back to Roy to geta turkey for the Brigadier. Word came back fromRoy that the turkeys had all died. Roy had a de-gree in Agriculture. Tommy reasoned that hemust know about turkeys. So that seemed to bethat.

Some months later, while we were in Ortona, anewsreel was sent out from England. One of theshots in that newsreel was of Roy Blake and hisstaff plucking turkeys.

After we left Potenza the hot dry weatherchanged. Once in awhile it rained. Very often atnight a heavy mist covered everything. We weremoving constantly and often in action. We wouldsleep and then roll up our bedding and go onabout our job. That night the bedding would bedamp from the previous night. Before longrheumatism was keeping me awake all night. Iwas just about ready to quit when we went into arest area at the end of October.


Chapter 27: Food

Food - the soul of any army - was good. When welanded and for the first month we had a Compos-ite ration - called Compo rations. They were inwooden boxes each containing fourteen days ra-tions. There were the various foods for the morn-ing, noon and evening meal for two men forseven days or seven men for two days. Nearlyeverything was tinned so that it kept in goodcondition. And it was good quality food. I thinkthat there were seven different combinations sothat the menu was varied. The Americans neverhad anything as good. ACompo ration madegood trading material, when dealing with them.

After the first month we got dehydrated foods.Potatoes, carrots, beets, cabbage, mutton, beef,eggs, milk. In theory it was excellent. In the field,with only a hydra burner and a pot to work with,the cooks turned out exactly the same thing dayafter day. It was good but monotonous.

After the first six months we went on regularBritish Army rations. These were good. TheAmericans seemed to have a greater variety offoods. But more of their foods were prepared andhighly seasoned. The first meal was delicious but,surprisingly soon, one tired of those preparedfoods. The staple issue of the British rations couldbe treated as one wished. That way more peoplewere satisfied. We had frozen boneless Argentinebeef even in the hottest spots in the front line.Some of it was very good. The only real disasterwas the mixture of butter and margarine they is-sued at first. In the warm climate the butter wentrancid. After a few attempts they quit issuingbutter. The only complaint with the margarinecame if one got the wrong grade of margarine forthat season. The hot weather margarine was justlike tallow in the cold weather. The British armyalways issued tea. It was a really appreciatedwhen the Canadian Army arranged a regularissue of good coffee.

The Army field kitchens were equipped with ahydra burner to supply heat for cooking. Thiswas a large blow torch which burned gasoline.Petrol and cooks being what they were, thesehydra burners were soon out of order withplugged jets, etc. The British Army cookingschool made a great to do about an improvisedburner which consisted of a long metal tube, avalve and a tank. This would burn usedcrankcase oil. It was alright but very dirty. TheCanadian version of that improvised stove, wasto burn gasoline in it. That worked quite well. Itgave a dependable flame and was reasonablyfoolproof.

However cooks being what they were, thesetanks invariably ran empty during the prepara-tion of the meal. Quite regularly some damn foolwould attempt to refill the tank with gasolinewithout first turning off the flame. Always therewould be a fire, sometimes quite serious In spiteof dire cook house warnings and threats our Bat-talion averaged about one fire per week in theVariety was achieved by living off the country.Stray bullets,“accidentally killed cattle, pigs, etc."This was discouraged as it depleted the civilianstocks. But there were many vegetables. Onemost highly prized, after war rationed Englandwas onions.

I had a terrific row with Phil Staynor one day. Hehad persuaded the cook to put onions in our ricePudding, That was a dish. There was much fruit.We got figs, oranges, lemons peaches and grapes.The grapes were ripening in Sicily when welanded. As we worked our way north in Italy theseason was a bit later. So we had grapes for along time. That was a special treat for me as Ilove grapes, I literally ate bushels of grapes. Theintriguing part was that the grapes in every vine-yard were slightly different. In one vineyard Ifound green grapes that had a flavour that re-minded me of the smell of the blossom on thewolf willows back on the prairies. No one will


ever know what grapes can really taste like till hehas picked a ripe juicy cluster off the vine, justbefore dawn, when the world is cool.

We were shocked at the way that Italians pre-pared their food. Trays of spaghetti and slicedtomatoes sitting in the sun to dry by the roadside,covered with flies and dust. But, whenever wegot the opportunity we would get an Italian fam-ily to prepare a feed of spaghetti for us, using ourmaterials. Of course they would put in their owngoats cheese and sometimes tomato sauce. itnever failed to be delicious. Since each vineyardhad different grapes each district had a differentwine. We became connoisseurs.

Sometimes we drank water. Of course we hadmany other needs for it. Water for us was sup-plied by a special water truck driven by PaulGamble****. Paul was a veteran of Vimy Ridge.While we were in England we had received a di-rective to transfer those over a certain age to theHolding Unit. Paul was one of our most depend-able drivers and we did not want to lose him. Sohe was overlooked. This meant that he did notdare to be transferred out of our Battalion evenfor sickness. Paul treated all of the water withchemicals it was an offence for any soldier todrink any other water. Paul served us well andnearly everyone else in the 1st Division.

Early in Italy, Paul acquired a tourist guide bookfor Italy of several volumes that was written inItalian. All through the Italian campaign he wasable to tell us about what was on the other side ofthe hill and what we should be sure to see.

An experience that I had with the boys scroung-ing occurred in 1944 when I was with the Ma-chine Guns. I am quite sure that the officers andsenior Non Commissioned Officers were not inon the planning, though they learned of it beforeI did. The third time that we had fresh pork Ilearned about its’ origin. Army vehicular convoys

travel with a 20 minute halt every two hours.When we halted near a farm some boys wouldentertain the farmer’s family giving them ciga-rettes and chocolates. Another group would lo-cate the pig. Then a few minutes before the endof the halt every driver started up his motor. Thatwas when the pig got it. It was thrown into theback of a covered truck. Another group com-pleted the slaughtering while we were enroute.

*** #214594 Paul Byron Gamble, from Landis,Saskatchewan. In WW1 he had enlisted in the96th Bn, CEF in Saskatoon on March 28, 1916. Atthe time that he was serving as a driver in Italy inthe SLI he was 48 years old.


Chapter 28: People

Perhaps it is the lot of an army to see the worstside of the people of a country. We certainly cameto despise the Italians. The sight of a fat old slobof a father soliciting business for his daughterwas enough to disgust the most callous Cana-dian. That we saw often. Pitiful little donkeyswould be straddled by mature men, their feetdragging on the ground. Walking behind wouldbe the women of the household carrying unbe-lievable loads on their head. Once I saw twowomen help a third get loaded. They had the rootsection of a tree trunk. It was so heavy that thetwo had difficulty getting it as high as the third’shead. She got her head cloth in place and strodeoff quite easily. Ploughing was done with hoe likemattocks. The man with the most women towield mattocks was the wealthiest. As a result thewomen aged in looks very early. It seemed that atthirteen or fourteen they were mature youngwomen. At thirty they were old hags.

Education seemed almost non-existent. We evensaw priests, whom I am sure had practically noeducation. There did not seem to be any way pro-vided for the rural people to get an education.But everyone seemed to be musical. In everyhousehold there was a musical instrument ofsome kind. No matter how mean a man’s circum-stances were, he seemed to know and to be ableto sing a part of the standard Italian operas. Inspite of their poverty, when they had to live onwhat was left, after paying rent to the landlord,taxes to the state, and dues to the church, thepeople seemed to be happy. Life was not as sa-cred or valuable as to us. Every family had lost atleast one child. But they were happy.

One day Brady was driving me to reconnoiter.We met an old woman and her fifteen-year-oldson in a high two wheeled wooden cart to whichthey had three ponies hitched. The boy was driv-ing. Brady turned off the trail, which was on the

side of a hill, The boy turned off on the outsidebut, instead of stopping or watching where hewas going, he kept on going and watched us.One wheel went over the side of the road and thecart tipped over. The old lady was so positionedthat she went, head first, belly down and hori-zontal, through the air like a bird. She droppedabout six feet and made a five point landing thatknocked the wind out of her. Her landing madesuch a bang that I really felt sorry for her. Theponies were so light that they were tipped overby the cart. It was a terrible tangle. I jumped outto help. The mother was gasping and finallycould moan “Mamma mia.” The boy, who wasreally in no trouble at all, got scared and took off.


Chapter 29: Rest At Oratino

At Oratino we went into houses. It was a hill vil-lage. The ground sloped off gradually to the Eastbut to the west and north it dropped almoststraight down several hundred feet. I wouldjudge that it was nearly a thousand feet above thevalley. Looking west and north one could seetwenty miles or more. For several days after wegot to Oratino we could see the guns flashingaway off in the distance. First thing in the morn-ing the valley would be covered from view witheither a cloud or a mist. It was really a beautifullocation. But one can say that of all Italy. Thescenery is marvelous, but always there are thepeople. The retaining wall, from where one gotsuch a marvelous view, was where a good num-ber of the natives had their daily eliminations.That would lodge some ten feet below.

One day I wrote the following: “This morning Istood on a hill and looked out on Italy. The risingsun, behind, cast long shadows on a sea of cloudswhich stretched out beneath my feet for milesand miles. Our own shadow was haloed with aspectrum. Across the valley rose peopled moun-tains.” This was the land of the gods. Who, ofthose myriads of garden farms, could take hiseyes off the distant grandeur?

On a nearby hill puffed exploding shells. Frombelow the churning masses of mist came the rum-ble of guns and the Penetrating roar of a convoy,The spell of great heights and sweeping distanceswas broken. Nearby a native rises from hiscrouching. I am in shit strewn Oratino. While thedestiny of the world is at stake, life moves onnormally. It is morning in Italy, not the dawn of anew day.

One custom that seemed quaint to us. An old fel-low, dressed up in an elaborate uniform, wouldgo about the town, at various hours of the day,ringing a bell, to remind everyone of the time of

the next service in the church.

Water for Oratino came from a well in the valleya couple of miles away. The well was cribbedwith a stone wall about twelve feet in diameterand ten feet deep. Stone steps lead down into thewater. Every morning and evening barefootwomen would carry the water in jars on theirhead.

We had a party for the group in Oratino, severalof our boys performed. Ed Hudson was the starof the show with his French Canadian dialect sto-ries. One of his better ones was about “That Goddam MacKenzie King and the Bull.”

The officers of the Battalion had a mess dinner inCampobosso. It was a very fine dinner. After-wards everyone reminisced. A crap game and apoker game got going. After awhile I got verytired, I was still feeling the effects of my expo-sure, Reggie Rankin and I had come to dinner to-gether. I decided to have a sleep. I knew, that if Ilaid myself down by the entrance, that Reggiecouldn’t miss me, There was a row of singlechairs against the wall, by the door, and I laid onthem. There were provost on duty at the door. Iguess that they had been warned to make surethat no drunken officer got waylaid or was leftbehind. The provost came and asked me if I wasalright? “Yes.” A few minutes later he askedagain. “Yes, go away and leave me alone.”

The provost got alarmed. He made enquiries.Phil Reynolds, Tommy de Faye and a couple oth-ers gathered and debated with the provost aboutwhat they should do. I had had a lot to drink, Iwas tired. I knew that they were afraid that I wasgoing to start a fight I thought that that wasfunny but I was tired. After a few minutes, dur-ing which the debate had continued, ReggieRankin came tottering along, so tight that hecould just navigate. He was entirely oblivious ofthe audience. “Come on Mitch, let’s go home.”


“O.K.” I got up and went with him leaving a veryrelieved group behind. I thought that that wasvery funny. But I was too tired to laugh.

While we were in Oratino, Brig. Hoffmeister gavea series of talks to the officers of Second Cana-dian Infantry Brigade. He talked of variousthings. He spent quite a lot of time on the princi-ples of war. I thought it rather singular for theCanadian Army, when engaged in a war againstGermans to have a man named Hoffmeister,dressed in a Seaforth uniform explainClauswitz’s principles of war.

About three miles west of Oratino there was abombed river bridge. A unit of the Italian armywas constructing a Bailey bridge over the river. Itwas laid on that we were to spell them off. Wewent down on three different days. The Italiansswarmed over the bridge like an ant hill. Theyworked happily together and accomplished a lot.It was different with our boys. They soon gotbored with the job. We had to have a roll callevery hour to keep them together.


Chapter 30: Naples

From Oratino, Wes Winters and I went on leaveto Naples. At that early date, leave centres werenot very well organized. Wes and I were in-structed to arrange accommodation for the offi-cers of our Battalion. I do not recall just how wemade the contact, but we found a very goodapartment building that was almost unoccupied.The owner was in enemy occupied Rome. Wemade arrangements with the caretaker - Papa. Ido not recall his name. He and his wife becameknow to our Battalion as Papa and Mamma.

I am sure that anything that we paid went di-rectly into Papa’s pocket and that the owner inRome never got anything. Papa and Mammawere realists. Mamma could still get ecstaticthinking about love. But Papa was the completecynic. One could arrange anything through him,for a consideration.

On my next leave, three months later, I went backto Naples with Crisafio, Papa and Mamma pre-tended joy at seeing me again. They got out a bot-tle of wine and we sat around drinking andtalking. Quite casually, three girls from Papa’sstable, came in and joined us. Two of them weremarried. Their husbands were prisoners of war inNorth Africa - one was a Major.

We talked of various things. A certain man’sname was mentioned. The Major’s wife started tohiss and spit like an angry cat. It seems that thisparticular man, who had been mentioned, hadcome to Papa’s to spend his leave. Papa had sup-plied the Italian Major’s wife. They had had din-ner. danced, etc. and then came back to Papa’s togo to bed. They got undressed. Then the Major’swife got coy and pretended to be hard to get.They ran around the room. The man, who hadbeen drinking heavily, slipped and fell andpassed out completely. That was the end of theevening. The Major’s wife did not like that man.

For souvenirs we bought some unset cameos.

Wes and I drove to Pompeii. Even there the na-tional preoccupation of the Italians could not besuppressed. The prize attractions in the ruinswere the concubines room in the home of the richand the brothel house. In the brothel there werepictures depicting the various positions over eachtiny cubicle. It was unnecessary for the patron toeven to speak. He only needed to point towhat he desired.

On our way back to Naples, from Pompeii, wegave an American Sergeant a lift, He was theusual talkative type. He was the first person thatI had heard wax eloquently about Montgomery'sability as a general, According to this Americansergeant Montgomery was one of the greatestgenerals of all time and had taught General Pat-ton all that he knew about modern warfare

The average opinion of Montgomery at that timeis something that may seem hard to appreciatenow. Especially the British, no one was too en-thused about Montgomery. Everyone felt that hewas competent enough but that he had been ex-tremely lucky to get his command at the exacttime that the 8th Army really had something withwhich to fight. The English, thought that Mont-gomery was too much of an exhibitionist - tooAmericanized.

One marvelous spot that we found in Naples was“el giardina del arranchj" - which means roughly“the orange grove.” It was a restaurant on thepeninsula west of Naples, which curves aroundthe harbour. There were tables set on an opentiled terrace, seated at a table, one had a wonder-ful view of Naples. In the beautiful bright moon-light one could just see the smoke rising out ofMt. Vesuvjus. One saw the complete circle of theharbour with all of the city light behind and rid-ing on deep blue water were all of the variousboats and ships. In my opinion it is one of “the


sights” in this world. Walking down Via Roma Iwas attracted by a beautiful bay horse hitched toa light rubber tired cart . The driver was dressedin the riding habit of a well to do person. He waswaiting to cross Via Roma. There was a Carib-ineri on point duty at the intersection. The trafficon Via Roma was quite heavy. For some reasonthe Caribineri was not allowing the horseman tocross. They spoke to each other, each time a littlemore angrily. Finally the horseman got out of hiscart, walked over to the Caribineri and struckhim in the face. The Caribineri blew his whistle.Within moments six others appeared. Eachgrabbed a limb of the horseman and bouncedhim on the pavement. The others kicked andpunched him. The arm of the law! Never was Imore tempted to join in a fight.


Chapter 31: The Moro River

At Oratino I got John Harry as a reinforcementofficer, John had commanded a machine guncompany and was wounded at Leonforte. Thiswas his first time back.

John had not had any training with mortars.Knowing machine guns, he knew the theory offire Control. He soon learned the mortar proce-dures. The evening of his first day with mortarsJohn came to me. “Mitch, is a barrel of vino partof platoon stores?”

“No, John, it is not.” Next morning John gave hisplatoon twenty four hours to get rid of the vino,Aweek later I happened to be looking throughBattery Headquarters trucks. I found the barrel ofvino in one of my trucks.

In December, 1943, 2 Canadian Infantry Brigademoved into the front line to cross the Moro River.Because of the few good roads we were movedup behind the front at night, sometime before wewere to go into action. The Italian coastline facingthe Adriatic is a series of rivers and gulleys run-ning down to the sea. We took shelter in somehouses on the East bank of a gulley about a mileeast of San Appollinare. There was a littlethatched roof shelter dug into the side of thebank about twelve feet by twenty. These sort ofstructures were used by the Italians as storehouses. The west wall of this was dug into thebank about four feet. The roof was a pitched roofof branches and grass with the west side sittingon the earth bank. The east wall was of someflimsy structure. Snuggled against that bank itlooked like a safe spot. John Gebbie, myself andthree sergeants bedded down in there. There wasroom to walk to each bedroll with a little area,four feet square, in the exact middle, free forstanding room. We had just got into bed whenJerry lobbed a huge shell over. Some one ofHitler’s finest had failed to do his job well. The

shell did not explode but buried itself in the exactcentre of that four foot free area. The crater waseighteen inches deep. We moved.

We were to support a crossing of the Moro River.This was John Harry’s first engagement with themortars. So I went along with him. We had a lim-ited time to get into action but it was enough. Ac-cording to the map, the logical spot for an OPwould be in San Appollinare. There was a hugemasonry building right on the lip of the ravine. Itlooked ideal, so John and I went into it. While wewere there Jerry poured over a hate. One of hisshells knocked the bell out of the belfry of thechurch. Our OP was too obvious. It was clear thatJerry would likely make it untenable.

“We have got to get out of here John.” Outsidewe found the poor driver almost paralyzed withfear from the row that the bell had made. I de-cided that the safest spot would be in the olivegrove that covered the ridge towards the sea. Wefound a good spot. We had two shovels and onepick. The OPAwas Cpl. Walker. We started to digin. I doubt if John had ever used a shovel before.He made very little headway in that stubbornsoil. We had just nicely started when a Shermantank pulled up behind us, fired six rounds andthen drove away. It was deafening. Cpl. Walkerand I knew exactly what was going to happen.We dug furiously. When Jerry retaliated we hadthe semblance of a trench for protection. PoorJohn had little more than a scratch in the ground.He kept looking at me expecting me to do some-thing. Finally, “Mitch, they are shooting at us.”What a revelation!

That and other shows petered out. For anotherdo, we were to occupy positions on the sameridge much closer to the seacoast. I took GrantAmy and Jack Gebbie with me to make a recon-naissance, in the middle of the night. We drovethrough a farm yard where we saw a beautifulhuge turkey gobbler. Christmas was approach-


ing. I spoke. “Aword to the wise is sufficient,”Both Jack and Grant chorused. “Enough said,Sir.”

We finished our reconnaissance and drove backthrough the same farm yard. The gobbler wasstill there but now a sturdy Seaforth sentry, withfixed bayonet, was standing guard over him.Which shows that, even in war, essentials comefirst.

The infantry finally got a very small foothold inSan Leonardo, across the river Moro. I went over,with my driver, in the jeep, to see what we coulddo. I expected to be there only a few minutes.While there the bridge over the Moro, was closedto backward traffic. We were stuck with no ra-tions. That night I laid down on a pile of brush inthe house, where the infantry Battalion Head-quarters was, and tried to sleep. I was too hun-gry. About midnight a Loyal Edmonton privateasked me if I would like to have something to eat,“I certainly would.”“Well sir, a shell killed a cow just outside thehouse that we are in so we butchered it.” I fol-lowed him into a nearby house, all doors andwindows were very carefully blacked out. Insidethey had a merry wood fire burning in the fire-place. Nearby hung a quarter of beef. You slicedoff your own meat and grilled it over the flames,the best meal that I have ever eaten!

Finally, all of San Leonardo was cleared We estab-lished our Battery Headquarters in a stone houseon the western outskirts of the village. There wasa Sherman tank alongside the southwest cornerof our house, that a Jerry soldier had blown upwith a magnetic mine. Our house had stout wallsand joined a vineyard which made approacheasy. We occupied it for about one week. All ofthat time an SOB of a Jerry sniper made our tripto our latrine, in the vineyard a nightmare. In thecellar of the house were huge tanks of vino. Ireckoned that there were four thousand gallons

of vino there. Besides, there were demi - johns ofvermouth marsala etc. A direct hit might havedrowned us. Otherwise we were quite snug andsafe.

In Leonardo we had a terrible loss. One of theplatoons used a house on the outskirts of the vil-lage next to the Moro, on the opposite side of thevillage from Battery Headquarters. A Jerry planemade a direct hit on the house, with a bomb. Ital-ian houses have the second floor made of con-crete The walls crumbled and this floor fell ontop of the boys in the house. When I got there oneof the wounded was becoming hysterical. I hadto talk roughly to him to quieten him. Nearbytroops helped and we soon got everyone out.When we got to him, we found Sgt. Brown*** sit-ting, back to the wall, just as natural as could be.He was dead. Brown was one of the best Ser-geants that I have ever worked with. His loss wasa great blow to our Battery. Besides the roadsidewounded there were six of our boys that werekilled. We buried them at the roadsise.

Slowly the front line moved. The infantry hadreached the outskirts of Ortona The coast road toOrtona follows the coast at a low level till it is justbelow Ortona Then it follows a couple of switch-backs and joins the lateral road at the high levelabout a mile inland. Grant Amy and I were walk-ing on the low level coast road looking for goodmortar Positions. Between the beginning of theswitchback and Ortona there was a donkey paththat lead directly into town. This was covered bya Jerry minefield. A Seaforth party were headingup this path carrying rations on mules. One mulewasn’t too enthusiastic. The private leading himWas the most profane mule driver that I haveever heard. I warned them that they shouldn’t gothrough the minefield. Scornfully they repliedthat they had already made several trips. Grantand 1 waked up to switchback, We just got out ofsight when there was a terrific explosion, fol-lowed by a huge black cloud from the vicinity of


the minefield Grant and I had no time to spare.We kept on but I left word at the Loyal Loyal Ed-monton Regiment's. Regimental Aid Post thatthey Would likely find casualties at the minefieldThen I went on into the outskirts of Ortona Thefirst person that I met was the profane muleteerHis face and clothing were blackened, that wasall, He told me that one second he was pullingthe mule. The next second he only had a bit ofrope in his hand. The mule and his load had justdisappeared.

This time we did a couple Battalion mortarshoots that were co-ordinated by Scott-Dudley.Another laid on was to be controlled by DraytonWalker. He sent orders to us to Rendezvous atSan Leonardo crossroads. Jerry had retreatedfrom this country and he knew that everythingthat crossed the Moro river had to go throughthat crossroads. He kept shelling, that crossroadsso regularly and so accurately, that the provostdirecting the traffic there, did his work from apoint one hundred yards away. As a point to Ren-dezvous the crossroads were alright. But to holdan Orders group there was another matter. Dray-ton worked on the principle that Jerry wasn’tgoing to interfere with his plans. He got out hismap board and started to outline his plan. StuWells and I took one look at each other. Then Ispoke -“Sir, I am not standing here.” We movedaway and he had to follow.

In training I always insisted that, after the mortarwas set up and before any firing was done,everybody should dig a slit trench. It was re-markable the amount of shelling that troops inslit trenches could stand. One of our platoons hadset up their mortars near the church on the out-skirts of Ortona. During one shelling, a Jerry shelldropped into one of the mortar barrels splitting itlike a peeled banana. Gent was in a slit trenchthat was as close to the mortar as he could get it.All that happened was that he lost his hearing fora time.

During this action Grant Amy**** was killed. Ashell burst near him and blew off the top of hishead. When I saw him at the Aid Post, he wasstill alive. The Medical Officer had drugged him.That was a very low point for me. Wes Wintershelped me prepare the body for burial.

Jack Gebbie took over Grant’s job. It was thenthat I became aware of a problem that must haveplagued every warrior since the beginning oftime. Just where is the line between aggressiveaction and unnecessary risks? I could read thequestion in Jack’s honest face, “Is this fellow a bitmad?”

It was the fortunes of war which seemed to giveour 2 Canadian Infantry Brigade more action.From the first day at Pachino our mortars hadbeen used and appreciated. I always felt that ourboys were happier and less open to fear if theywere working. We always used our mortarswhenever we could.

*** L1302 Sgt. James Cameron Brown KIADecember 16, 1943. Buried in the Moro RiverWar Cemetery. Sgt. Brown came fromWatrous,Saskatchewan.

**** Captain Grant Frederick Amy KIADecember22, 1943. Buried in the Moro River War Ceme-tery.Captain Amy came from Ottawa, Ontario


Chapter 32: Ortona

We got into the outskirts of Ortona. Lt. Col Jeffer-son of the Loyal Edmonton Regiment was coordi-nating the attack. He had his Headquarters in aflour mill. When the Loyal Edmonton Regimentleft we took over that flour mill and used it allthe time that we were at Ortona. I set up myHeadquarters in a good stone residence on theoutskirts. The SLI used that house throughoutour stay in Ortona as well. That house was in thecentre of a block of stone houses. It seemed quitea safe spot.

Fifty yards down the street, towards the waterfront, was an AT gun. For a week, day and night,that gun fired away. In 1952, on a refresher coursein Winnipeg, I got into an argument, with anRCD lecturer about how close an AT gun shouldbe to other troops. Had he been with me thatweek, he would have understood my argumentbetter.

Nault and I were the first to take over this housefor our Headquarters. Nault went about makingit liveable. When I came back he was more ex-cited than I had ever seen him. He had gone nextdoor. There he had found two children, killed intheir high chairs. The wailing mother was withthem. The father and some other men were hud-dled around doing nothing. The children hadbeen dead for some time. Nault who could speakItalian well, was heart broken, but suggested asgently as he could, that the children ought to beburied. The men refused, Nault loaded his rifleand kept the men covered until the Childrenwere buried. He said, “By Jesus, Sir, I felt likeshooting them but then I would have had to digthe graves myself.” That was all in the life of abatman driver.

Col. Jefferson held his Orders Group regularlyevery day. At the first Orders Group he laid outplans to get to Pescara. The next day the objective

was to take Ortona. The third day we had toreach a line midway through Ortona. After thatfor more than a week he would start off the Or-ders Group by saying, “Well, we will see what wecan do today.” It was marvelous how he bore upunder strain.

Near the south edge of Ortona was an opensquare in front of a five story apartment building,This apartment was captured early in the fight. Itwas a natural OP. The building was built in twosections with two stairwells. A bomb or hugeshell had wrecked the north stairwell. Of courseit was on the north side that we wanted the OP.To get there it was necessary to climb to the penthouse on the south side and then crawl over theroof to the pent house on the north side and thendown into the masonry building. That was easilydone, without danger, after dark. But severaltimes I had to get there in daylight. On two occa-sions an 88 mm gun fired at me while I wascrawling across the roof. I could hear the shell“whish” as it passed by each time.

On Christmas Day, 1943 fighting in Ortona wasstill savage. Each battalion made special prepara-tions to serve Christmas dinner. Canned turkeyand Pudding had been provided. The Seaforthsused the church on the Outskirts. Half the battal-ion held the front line positions while the otherhalf ate. Our boys alternated and ate in their pla-toon positions. It just happened that on that day Iwas extra busy. At noon Nault thought that I waseating elsewhere. I didn’t get a chance to eat tillevening and by then there was only bully beef toeat.

It was in this church on the outskirts of Ortona,that Chapman and Dick deFaye found a book ofShakespeare plays written in Italian. They spentmany enjoyable hours reading to each other.

In his expeditions around the town Nault wasfinding many souvenirs. He began to feel sorry


for me. He brought me a cushion that was quiteornate I didn’t think much of it but rather thanoffend him I took it and thanked him. We tookthe stuffing out and I sent it home. There the topwas highly prized. It was shorn of its’ ornatetrimmings and mounted in a picture frame wherethe needlework roses and rosebuds look verynice.

This action was the first for Phil Reynolds whohad just arrived from Canada. One day he washolding an Orders Group with his Companycommanders when Jerry started to shell them.Rupe Leblond and the others were determinedthat a newcomer to the front, like Phil, would notshow them up. Phil, on the other hand assumedthat these fellows were battle experienced. Theywould surely know when there was danger sothe Orders Group proceeded while the shellingcontinued.

Finally Rupe could bear it no longer. “Sir don’tyou think that we should get the hell out ofhere?”

Throughout the fight for Ortona, Montgomerywas a daily visitor. There is no questioning the ef-fect that his presence made on morale. We all feltthat we were truly the front line.


Chapter 33: Counter Mortars

When Ortona fell all thoughts of going to Pescarahad been forgotten. We were to settle down tohold the line for the winter. In the fighting up toOrtona the mortars of the Division had been usedtogether three times. I don’t know whose idea itwas, Vokes or Walker’s, but it was decided to trya new form of organization in this static role. In-stead of each brigade having one battery, each ofmortars, machine guns and AA guns we were totry controlling all the mortars as one unit. For thetrial a temporary headquarters was set up withDrayton Walker as Commanding Officer and my-self as Second-in-command.

We set up our Headquarters in the mill in Ortona.There we had radio links with the Batterys andtelephone. I set up a sort of miniature Battalionorganization. Rostand Lahaie was to be in chargeof Intelligence. This proved a happy choice. Idon’t think that I ever actually saw Rostand doanything other than light one cigarette with thebutt of another. Somehow we got his work doneand he spent plenty of time thinking about it. Hehad many good ideas.

He and Walker developed many ideas. They gotthe mortars surveyed in. They registered enemytargets and gave them code names. Telephonelines connected with all formations of the in-fantry. A code word could bring mortar fire tobear any time day or night. They got the Artilleryspotter aircraft to direct fire on special targets.They set up a counter mortar organization thatwas the pride of Gen. Vokes. We had visitorsnearly every day, from corps, from 8th Army, andfrom England. A lot of the army’s future organi-zation, in that type of work, was worked out inOrtona, by Drayton Walker and Rostand Lahaie.

The 2 Canadian Infantry Brigade took up posi-tions on the left flank of the Division. One posi-tion faced Crecchio which was just across a very

deep gulley and only some five or six hundredyards away. Behind this hill, that the 2 CanadianInfantry Brigade infantry occupied, was anotherdeep gulley. An excellent mortar position. It waswithin one thousand yards of the enemy frontline and protected by a very steep bank. The 2Canadian Infantry Brigade mortars moved intothere. The Seaforths were in the front then andcomplained bitterly to Hoffmeister about thosedamned stovepipes being so close to their posi-tions. Hoffmeister told the mortars to move.Ernie Jarvis was Battery commander and came toMortar Headquarters. Drayton was away for acouple days. So I went to see Hoffmeister. He wasadamant. The mortars must move.

As brought out a fine point in Army organiza-tions. Supporting arms are usually placed in sup-port of a brigade, rarely under command. Thetheory is that the Officer Commanding of thesupporting arm is a specialist who knows asmuch or more about his particular weapon, thanthe brigade Commander. If the weapon is beingmisused by the brigadier then the Officer Com-manding has a duty to question the commandand to seek a final decision from the Divisionalcommander, I stated my case to Vokes. Of coursehe was a mortar enthusiast. “Is that a good mor-tar position?” “Yes sir.” “Well, leave them in therethen.”

I have told permanent force officers about this in-cident. Without exception they have rated me afool for having been so persistent That has sim-ply served to confirm my belief that permanentforce officer suffer from a very grave occupa-tional liability Why should they jeopardize theirarmy careers by antagonizing a Brigadier just toget their weapon into a good position?

We put our mortars into position within onethousand yards of Crecchio early in January By24th of April, when we moved out, we had hadone casualty on the mortar line after firing thou-


sands of rounds. I never heard of any complaintfrom the infantry. They appreciated the speed, ac-curacy and volume of fire that they had so closeat hand. Brig. Hoffmeister and I never had an-other word about the incident. In fact I doubt ifeither gave it a second thought. Brig. Hoffmeisterwas a gentleman.

By the time that Ortona fell the whole Divisionwas battle weary. Many loved ones had droppedby the wayside. Everyone was jittery. Why takean unnecessary chance? Our original mortarequipment had included night firing equipment.Some of this had been damaged, but the mortarsmade such a terrible flash at night that much ofthe night firing equipment had been deliberatelylost. No one wanted to advertise his position.

Drayton's idea of twenty four hour Counter mor-tar operations hinged on having this night firingequipment. At his first Orders Group he laid onthat we should be ready to do so. At his OrdersGroup the next day, he discovered that nothinghad been done. The Battery commanders saidthat they didn’t have anything. McKenzie whowas Quartermaster, said that he didn’t have anysupplies. It was an impasse in which the wholemortar group was attempting to give Drayton therun around. No one wanted to fire at night. Dray-ton announced that we were firing the next night,If they didn’t have proper equipment thenMcKenzie was to improvise with flashlights. Wefired. And the marvelous part of it was that noone was injured in night firing all that winter.Some days five and six thousand bombs werefired, mostly at night and from fixed Positionsthat had been surveyed in. Of course we hadideal mortar positions. The thing was that to any-one near at hand the flash was terrible but at adistance it was difficult to locate. The mortarswere much more easily pinpointed by theirsound.

The most isolated spot on the front was known as

Point 59 which was a low hill right on the seacoast. It was part of the eastern ridge of the samewatercourse which the rest of the front followed.But because it was surrounded by low flatground it was very difficult to reach withoutbeing observed by Jerry. There were no goodmortar positions near it so that most of the mor-tar targets in front of Pt. 59 were beyond ourrange. Drayton’s problem was how to engagethose targets. He had an idea to get someDUKW’S with which he would take the mortarsup to Pt. 59, after dark, by way of the sea, do thenecessary firing and then bring the mortars backbefore daylight. Distance at sea, even in daylight,is very difficult to judge. Except if they were at-tacked by an aeroplane, the DUKW’s would havebeen difficult to shoot. I think that it was a feasi-ble scheme. However the DUKW’s were notavailable so the idea was dropped.

However this idea started a terrific furore. Ru-mours in the army grow much more fantasticallythan any Ladies Aid gossip ever did. In a veryshort time the rumour was that Drayton’s ideawas to fire the mortars, out of the DUKW’s at sea.I don’t know how the range was to be computedto say nothing of how the thrust was to be coun-teracted. That was it. There was no use arguing.That was the crazy loon’s latest idea.

Just as soon as we could, after we had set up ourcounter mortar organization, we had a mess din-ner for all of the mortar group officers. It was aninformal affair and we did not have any toasts.However, I thought that it presented a wonderfulopportunity to scotch the rumour about firingmortars at sea. Before the dinner broke up I roseand said, “Major Walker and gentlemen. We didnot intend to have any toasts this evening. But Ithink that there is one toast which we shouldhave. I am going to ask you to rise and to drinkwith me a toast to the Admiral. Gentlemen theAdmiral.”


There were about twenty officers there. As soonas I said the word admiral each one of them ex-cept Drayton, gasped. Drayton turned to one sideand then to the other, “Who is the admiral?” Butno one would tell him. So we all rose, includingDrayton, and drank the toast to the Admiral.That killed the rumour.

The 8th Army had an African Labour Battalion.They were brought in, immediately that Ortonawas cleared, to help clean up the rubble. I haveoften wondered how much they actually accom-plished. There was a pile of rubble at the entranceto Ortona. I am sure that for at least one week Isaw the same huge black man, leaning on thesame shovel, at exactly the same spot. He had onall the clothes that he could get, great coat, bala-clava, steel helmet, etc. He couldn’t possiblywork dressed the way that he was. He had ahappy smile for everyone.

The mill building in which we had set up MortarHeadquarters, had quite a large vaulted cellarbuilt of stonework. Soon after we took possessionof the building our Auxiliary Service Officerbrought up his movie projector and set it up inour cellar. Some fifty were able to watch at once.One of the first films shown, was of “Duke”Ellington, the pianist. The conclusion of the filmwas a close-up of the Duke while he played thepiano. That big, black, shiny face filled the screen.Then the Duke spoke: “One never knows, doone?” What a perfect philosophy for us!

Quite soon after Ortona was taken, the AuxiliaryServices fixed up the local opera house. It waswithin shelling range all winter and the audi-ences were strictly limited in size. But films wereshown there nearly everyday. The picture that Iremember getting the best audience response wasold “Union Pacific”. It showed Indians attackingthe railroad builders. When the cavalry came rid-ing over the hill to save the day, the boys in theaudience cheered: - “Here come the soldiers.”

Soon after Ortona, a call came from England for acertain number of experienced officers to comeback to take part in the channel invasion. EdHudson, who was doing a short stretch as stafflearner at 2 Canadian Infantry Brigade was onechosen to go back. J.D. McKenzie, our QuarterMaster, laid on a party. I think that there were sixof us. There was a crap game . McKenzie hadmixed up a punch. We always used water treatedby the army. He had the ingredients of his punchsitting on the sideboard. Water was in gin bottles.After awhile the punch was finished McKenziemixed another batch. This time instead of a bottleof water he got a bottle of gin into it. Within fif-teen minutes of serving that “mix” the partybroke. Everyone was hopelessly drunk.

Gordon Booth and Roy Blake had to drive intheir jeep to their Headquarters NE of Ortona to-wards Pt 59. They couldn’t get into their jeep. SoEd, J.D, and I attempted to load them. No matterhow we did it we always ended up in a heap onthe pavement. After a bit I could see that therewas no percentage in that, so I left them on thepavement and walked home. I slept in my origi-nal Battery Headquarters house with eight otherofficers. All the way home and while undressingI kept chuckling and laughing to myself over theschmozzle I had left. Next morning, at the break-fast table, Ernie Jarvis, in his dry, hesitant voicesaid, “You know Mitch, I have never hear anyonethat sounded more like an idiot than you did lastnight.”

Four officers of Mortar Group Headquartersmess slept in a house on the next street east.While in Winnipeg, in 1952, I learned of a compe-tition which they conducted amongst themselves.After dark each would expel the stomach gasesfrom his rectum while an accomplice would holda lighted candle to ignite the gas. The man whocould shoot the longest flame was the winner forthat night.


Chapter 34: Roatti

The Mortar group was a success and it was de-cided to group the other weapons as well. So theBrigade Group Headquarters were convertedinto Weapon Group Headquarters. I went back tomy old job as battery commander with 2 Cana-dian Infantry Brigade. The front was static andstatic Headquarters were established. 2 CanadianInfantry Brigade Headquarters was at Roatti onthe left flank. We had a Brigade officers mess. TheBrigade Intelligence Officer, Captain Gray was abit of an artist. In his spare time he sketched mu-rals on all the bare walls of the mess building.His one theme was nude women. No matterwhat Position was portrayed they bulged.

Brig. Hoffmeister ran a happy Headquarters. Wedeveloped a routine in which there was a set timefor work, for volleyball and for bull sessions.Brig, Hoffmeister entered into everything.

My duties involved regular visits to my platoonsto the infantry Battalions and to Mortar GroupHeadquarters. Jerry developed a routine as well.Certain spots were shelled every day. One was acrossroad that I went through everyday just be-fore noon. Jerry always shelled that exactly atnoon. And he always shelled the exact spot of thecrossroad. Many the time Brady and I havestopped the jeep one hundred yards from thecrossroads because it was near noon. Invariablyhe would shell the same spot. Then we would goon our way.

Within the Battalion we developed a bit sociallife. If we got something different we would in-vite one another over for a meal. At one that Wesand Gordon gave they made up menus and placecards. The menu was:

MENU:

Howard D’Oeuvres - (Howard Mitchell)

Supe Lablonde - (Rupe Leblond)Lestro Beans - (Les Clough)Hug-me Dolce Presto - (E. Hogg)Coffee Rosso - (Rostand Lahaie)

On the 24th April, 1944, the 10th Indian Divisiontook over the sector held by 1st Canadian Divi-sion. It was a revelation to me to see a modernarmy division, composed of people who two orthree years before had only lived a primitive life.Some of the officers in each unit of this Divisionwere British. All the rest and all the other rankswere Indian. One chap managed to tip over hisjeep driving after dark. Otherwise their take overwent smoothly.

The Brigade Headquarters arrived first. They setup their cook and he prepared a very sumptuouscurry dinner in the Indian style for us. We stayedin position for twenty four hours until they gotaccustomed to the front. That night Flitcroft cameinto my Headquarters to see me. He was thor-oughly frightened and white as a sheet. His OPwas in an exposed position. He always walkedthe first short distance to the spot where his vehi-cles were kept. This black night he was walking,alone as usual, when, without warning, two vise-like hands seized him from behind. Not a wordwas spoken. The hands slowly worked up hisarms, felt his shoulder and then his face. Againwithout a word he was released and his captordisappeared. That was sentry duty, Indian style.


Chapter 35: Lucera

Enroute from Ortona to Lucera I noticed a largewooden building of a size and shape that re-minded me of some of the horse barns that hadbeen built in Western Canada in the early 1920’s.Coming closer I saw that it was a huge stock ofwooden boxes containing corned beef. It was the8th Army’s dump of reserve rations. Even if allshipping was destroyed we would eat - bullybeef.

The general plan was that the 1st Canadian Divi-sion was to make the break through the HitlerLine near Monte Cassino. For this action 2 Cana-dian Infantry Brigade withdrew to Lucera whereit was to practice infantry cum tanks operationswith the British Army 25th Tank Brigade. It wasnecessary for both Infantry and Tanks to get toknow the other’s techniques intimately. Equallyimportant it was necessary for all ranks at eachlevel to know each other personally. This traininglasted for a week.

Towards the end of our stay at Lucera I laid on anevening for my Battery officers at the British offi-cers club at Foggia. We had dinner there and af-terwards sampled the wares of the bar. This wasa traditional British Officer set up. Nothing elabo-rate. Mostly Army rations. But there were linentable cloths, silver tableware and chinaware andthere was a fair variety to drink.

Some of the Tank Brigade officers were there asusual, British Army officers, when tight, tendedto go berserk. There was one little thin under-nourished inbred Northern Irish officer who wasreally objectionable. He persisted in getting uponto the dining table, linen cloth and all, to singribald songs. Time and again he was put off. Likea jack-in-the-box he popped up again.

One of my officers was a chap named McKay. Hehad come to us as a reinforcement at Roatti Like

all of our new reinforcements he did not knowanything about mortars. He was an accountant incivil life. He was tall, very slight, stooped, had alined leathery face, a drooping mustache amournful expression on his face and a very slowdreary voice. Every time I saw him my first incli-nation was to kick him in the rear to see if I couldget him to stand upright. He studied the pam-phlet thoroughly. He tried to follow it minutelyeven when not applicable. His platoon had beenin action ten months. Instead of co-operatingwith his Sergeants he seemed to antagonize them.I visited him often at first because he was newand I wanted to help.

That soon changed to my visits being because Iwas worried about what was happening to theplatoon. The Non-commissioned Officers soonsensed my thoughts and that made the situationeven worse.

That was the background when we left the din-ner table and started a game of darts in the bar.We drank a lot and everyone got tight. Towardsthe end of the evening McKay had difficulty instanding at all. He leaned with his back to the barand held himself upright with his elbows on thebar. The mournful expression was gone. On hisface was a happy simple grin. In that instant Iknew that I loved the guy. That moment markedthe beginning of McKay’s great success in ourBattalion, The next day when I visited McKay’splatoon I was made aware of my different atti-tude to him by the reaction it aroused in the Ser-geants. He knew that something had changedMcKay immediately began to fit in.

We moved around to the west coast of Italy. Onemove was at night. We arrived at the westernedge of the mountains about 0500 hours. Theconvoy stopped for a twenty minute halt whenwe were in a hill village overlooking a plain ofwonderful farm land. Even at that early hour, ourtrucks were almost immediately surrounded by


Italians mostly women and children. That was asight that I wish everyone in Canada could see.Women were carrying in their arms, cradled likeinfants, children two and three years old. Theyhad match stick legs and arms, huge bellies andheads. One boy, whose mother said he was thir-teen years old, was about the size of a normalseven year old. He too had spindly legs andarms, a huge stomach and a large wizened oldman’s head. It was one of the most gruesome andpathetic sights of the war. Obviously those chil-dren had suffered from malnutrition for a muchlonger period than the duration of the war andtheir home was right beside some of the finestsoil one could wish for.

We moved down into the plain and bivouackedfor twenty four hours. This was the area of one ofMussolini’s pilot projects for the improvement ofthe lot of the Italian peasant. He had taken overthis whole area, torn up all the little fields andmade such improvements to the land as wereneeded. In the centre of the area he had built afine little village with a church, a school, a littlehospital or first aid post and a centre for an agri-cultural adviser. The farms were laid out in a uni-form size of about 25 - 30 acres. On each, he builta new compact farm house, which, under oneroof, housed the family the livestock, implementsgrain, etc. The farmers were given small horsedrawn plows, seed drills, binders, etc. and athreshing machine. It was a tremendous step for-ward from the mattock and flail type of agricul-ture that we had seen everywhere else.


Chapter 36: The Hitler Line

The elements of the 8th Army concentrated in anarrow valley along the only main road. Thatwas the road from Naples to Rome. Never have Iseen such a conglomeration of stores, men andequipment. Luckily, the German Airforce didn’tcount for much then. A bomb anywhere in thevalley would have hit an important target.

We were moved up opposite the remains of thetown of Cassino. This little place had been one ofthe first “saturation targets” bombed by theAmerican Airforce. They had dropped fifteenhundred tons of bombs in a single raid. They hadraided it often. Still the American Fifth Army andsome British Units of the 8th Army had not beenable to break through the line.

This was a prepared position called the HitlerLine, 75 millimeter guns in Panther tank turretshad been embedded in concrete emplacements atstrategic points. Machine guns were similarityplaced. Fields of fire had been cleared of obsta-cles. Mortars, field guns of all types and infantryhad well prepared positions. All targets had beenregistered. The Germans had been instructed byHitler to hold this line and they were doing so.

In the first do the mortars supported the 1 Cana-dian Infantry Brigade,. The Polish Army wentalong the mountain ridge and captured theAbbey on top of Monte Cassino. Then on the23rd of May 1944 the 3 Canadian InfantryBrigade on the left and 2 Canadian InfantryBrigade on the right made the attack. Our 2Canadian Infantry Brigade right flank was alongthe west side of the main road which was the di-visional boundary.

The Army Intelligence people had studied thisarea of the front for a long time. We were issuedwith maps giving the exact location of Germaninfantry, guns, machine guns and mortars. This

brought to light a basic difference between theGerman Army and the Canadian Army. No onein the German Army had issued orders such asBrig. Vokes had given to me at Agira. Ourweapon pamphlets, issued by the Small ArmsSchool at Netheravon, laid down the rule thatsupporting arms never used their defensive firepositions for any other purpose than defensivefire. That was the rule the German Army fol-lowed. In this action it was the German Mortarsthat were the most devastating. Some peoplehave said that the Germans had moved in manymore mortars. I am sure that all that happenedwas that the Germans had followed the abovemaxim faithfully. Whenever they had a harassingshoot, or a shoot in support of some action of theinfantry to do, the German mortars moved to analternate Position. Those were the positions thatour intelligence people had so exactly recorded.Those were the positions that we poured thou-sands of bombs into. But the German mortarswere in their defensive fire positions. Those Posi-tions had only been used when our side hadmade an attack and when it had been almost im-possible for our people to properly locate them.

That day was a nightmare. I had to constantlychange our prepared fire plan in answer to pleasfrom the infantry to silence mortars of which wehad no record. We fired on them but in the dinand uproar our OP’s had difficulty in observingthe strike of our own weapons. The German firePower was terrific, While standing on the groundnear 2 Canadian Infantry Brigade Headquarterstalking to Flitcroft a jerry flat trajectory shellwhisked between us at what sounded like a waistheight. The Seaforths and the Princess Patricia’sCanadian Light Infantry made the attack andbore the brunt. The Loyal Edmonton Regiment,was in reserve. Their forming up area was satu-rated with mortars. They were in just as bad aspot. That day I saw the 2 Canadian InfantryBrigade literally disappear.


After the show Lt. Col. Camy Ware, Command-ing Officer of the Princess Patricia’s CanadianLight Infantry, came to Brigade Headquarters.Brig. Gibson was very enthusiastic and praisedWare for the splendid job that had been done,The Canadians had done what the others hadfailed to do. But Camy was heartbroken. “Thosewere fine boys. They are gone, I haven’t anybodyleft. They are all gone.” The Brigade Major gaveJim Stone of the Loyal Edmonton Regiment anorder to man the front line with the left out ofbattles. He made an error in the map co-ordinateand placed the Loyal Edmonton Regiment onemap square east of where they should have been.For a couple hours the only people occupyingthat bit of the front were our mortars and ma-chine guns.

But that did not matter, once the break was madeour Fifth Armoured Division went into action.Twenty four hours after that flat trajectory shellhad passed between Flitcroft and I out in thevineyard I stood on the same spot. Now it was agraded earthen road over which most of the ele-ments of the Fifth Diision had already passed.Bulldozers and patrols had followed the leadingtanks across the fields. The main paved road hadbeen reserved for the British division.

History now records the antics to which GeneralMark Clark resorted to make his triumphal entryinto the City of Rome. Amongst those whothronged the side walks to greet him were RupeLeblond and Les Clough. The previous day theyhad taken a jeep through the back roads. WhenMark Clark arrived they had already spent onenight in a Roman nightclub.


Chapter 37: Piedmonte

We followed the fighting for a day or two andthen the 1st Canadian Division was withdrawnfrom battle and went into a rest area nearFoligno. Our battery of mortars reached our Bat-talion area near Piedmonte the first of our Battal-ion, we set up tents in a field. That first day DougRankin contracted with the farmer, on whosefield we had located, for a supply of milk. Dougwas one of those fine healthy specimens everymother dreams her boy will become. The farmerwas to bring milk early every day. So everymorning, before Doug got out of bed, he haddrunk a quart of milk. One morning the milk didnot arrive. Later the farmer appeared, Why nomilk? Oh the cow she died. “Vache Morte.” Dougis still healthy so I guess the milk was alright,

While here the AACompanies and the GroupHeadquarters set up were done away with. Thisleft us three separate machine gun companiesand the mortar group which became known asthe mortar company, with the same firepower. Ibecame Second in command of the Mortar Com-pany.

We trained, refitted, had a sports day. And every-one went on leave. Gen. Burns, the Corps com-mander inspected us one day. It was a spit andpolish parade for which we had spent a long timepreparing. Gen. Burns just stepped out of his carwhen it started to rain. The inspection went onwithout a change. The rain just poured the fulltime of the parade. Afterwards we straggled backinto our pup tents.

Those pup tents were a real convenience. As is-sued, one had to crawl into them on hands andknees. But with a bit of scrounging we got someheavy cloth and sewed on walls three to four feethigh. Then one could stand upright in them.They gave good protection and a great deal ofprivacy.

Wes Winters, J.D. McKenzie and I went on leaveto Amalfi. Nearby the Italian king had a countryhome. It was a beautiful spot in the Sorrento,Salerno area. There was a very precipitous coast-line with only a few spots where there was abeach. Along a great portion of the coastline aroadway had been blasted out of the rocks. Onone side was rock, on the other a low stone wall,a foot or so high, that marked the boundary be-tween the road and the beautiful blue TyrrheneanSea some hundred feet below. The army hadtaken over an hotel at Amalfi and had set it up asan officer’s leave centre. The accommodation wasgood. There were proper beds, good meals, and abar that kept respectable hours closing at 2300hours. One could boat and swim, there weremovies and once a week a dance. Eleven mileswest along the coastal road was another village.Positano, where two native nightclubs stayedopen all night. We went there after the hotel en-tertainment closed down.

The three of us drove to Amalfi together in a jeep.By a majority vote Mitchell was rated a poordriver and, after the first effort, was not allowedto drive.

One interesting sight on the drive to Amalfi. TheBritish and Canadian Army always erected Baileybridges to temporarily replace those damaged.These were ingenious structures that could beerected to carry light traffic and then, withoutdisturbing the traffic, developed to carry anyload wished. They were made of steel sections.On our way to Amalfi we crossed several veryfine bridges that the Americans had built entirelyout of wood.

There were some Canadian nurses on leave at thehotel. One I had boated with on the river at Ox-ford. For the weekly dance the hotel army man-ager had invited some local Italian girls. I wasintroduced to one of these and to papa andmamma, who were along as chaperones. I cannot


imagine anything more respectable. The girlseemed to be very pleasant and a decent sort. Ibought papa and mamma and the girl a drink.We had a dance together. Then I took the Italiangirl over to where the Canadian nurses had con-gregated and introduced her all around. Every-one was very correct and then almostimmediately melted away. Three times I tried toget the Canadian girls to be pleasant to the Italiangirl for just one minute. Each time they unani-mously refused to have anything to do with her.

I quit the dance in disgust and finished theevening at the bar.

McKenzie and I, with a Canadian nurse, droveover to Sorrento one afternoon. It was a grandsunny warm day with the lovely sea breezeblowing. We drove around the town, lookedthrough the shops and bought a few sovereigns.Walking down one street I was on the outsidewith the nurse between McKenzie and I. An Ital-ian prostitute really quite a good looking girl,stopped McKenzie and solicited some business.

Our Canadian nurse was a very fine woman withgood Canadian morals. But it struck me that shewas angry, not because of the moral aspect of theItalian girl’s proposition but because of the im-plied criticism of her own sexual abilities.

One night after the hotel bar closed, we decidedto go down to the nightclub in Positano just incase the nightclub should be short of drinks wetook along a fresh bottle of rye whiskey We hada Canadian nurse with us. That was a beautifuldrive silvery moonlight perfect temperature calmair, the deep blue sea and dotted on it were Ital-ian fishing boats which used underwater lights toattract the fish to their nets. it was a wonderfulsight.

At the night club we found a brigadier whom Iknew. He was dressed in mufti and in the com-

pany of a striking platinum blonde. After a bit hecame over to our table. “Mitchell can you speakItalian?”

“Oh a bit sir What do you want to know?”

“Well, I have been trying all evening to get some-one to tell me how to say in Italian - I love youwith a passion which is most dishonorable.

In the line of food the specialty of this nightclubwas an omelet. They would take a single egg,add only a bit of seasoning beat it up as large aspossible, and then fry it over a charcoal fire. Fiftycents a go. But they were delicious. We thoughtthat it was a great bargain

The nightclub was fully supplied with drinks. Sowhen we started home the rye bottle was openbut still full. By now everyone was tight. So now,when everyone was tight, Mitchell who by major-ity vote could not drive when everyone wassober, was by majority vote elected driver.McKenzie and the nurse sat in the back,. Wes satbeside me holding the bottle of rye. Now I wasterrified by the sight of the sea. I drove the fulleleven miles in low gear, and all the way Weskept Sucking on the bottle of rye.

We reached the hotel safely, but by this time Weswas very tight. He had reached the state wherehe regarded himself as another person and he un-dertook to put himself in bed. All the time hekept talking to himself. “Winters you yellow bas-tard don’t ever kid yourself that you are going toget out of this war by getting malaria. You SOByou know that you take your pill. You know thatyou have to use ointment You know that youknow that you have to have to sleep under anet."

He got himself his pill. He applied the ointmentHe very carefully made his bed and put the mos-quito net in place. Then he tried to lift himself


into bed. He would pick up one foot and put itunder the covers with his hands and then hewould try to raise the other foot With his handsAlways he fell onto the floor, This performancewent on for nearly half an hour I thought that Ihim to bed was going to get sick from laughing50much Finally he passed out and I put


Chapter 38: Florence

Early in August we went into action again. Thistime we were to go into the line near Florence. Ihad been transferred to Machine Guns and wasonce again with ACompany. We traveled downthe main road from Naples to Rome. We passedCassino and the Hitler line. It was all tidied upbut even as we drove along a British Army truck,that attempted to pass our convoy, struck a mineon the verge of the road and blew up.

Though we did not know it, the move into theFlorence area was a ruse. We were in the frontline only a couple of days. Just long enough forthe German Intelligence to establish, beyonddoubt, that all of the Canadians were there.

All of our outgoing mail had to be censored bythe Company Commander. After the second dayin Florence a lot of small parcels were put intothe mail. They obviously had cloth of some kindin them. The parcels were all made up and I did-n’t feel like unwrapping and wrapping each so Ifranked them as they were. The next day therewas another flood of the same kind of parcels."Sergeant - Major, what goes on here?” “Theboy’s found a warehouse of silk, Sir. They aresending some of it home.” And I never got a bitof it.

We moved back to an area, near Perugia, wherewe stayed nearly a week. Our camp was in a val-ley below the town of Assisi. Nearby was a littlerural church. They were forever ringing the bellin that little church. What amused me was thatthat was the jazziest church bell ringing that Ihave heard anywhere. I don’t think that therewas more than one bell. But the rhythm of theringing was really “hot”.

Back in Saskatchewan there was a provincial gen-eral election. It was decided that the “boys overthere” should have representation in the Legisla-

ture. That produced one of the most bizzare inci-dents in the army that started in our Battalion atPerugia. We had had reinforcements from allacross Canada but most of our “originals” werefrom Saskatchewan. As the only Saskatchewanunit in Italy it seemed likely that the man wechose would have a good chance to win the seat.So we had a mass meeting at which the competi-tors from the S LI spoke and were later voted on.That was, to me, a very disgusting spectacle. Wewere an army unit on active service where the lifeof everyone was dependent on the discipline ofeveryone respecting the chain of command. Itwas utterly fantastic to think that ordinary hu-mans could step out of that role for an hour andlisten to the Commanding Officer of the Battalioncompete against those under his command for apopular job. It was the most mischievous schemethat anyone could have concocted to underminethe morale that we had spent years building.

Embury won. He made an honest bid. Hepointed out that he was a lawyer, a soldier, andthat he had been with the Battalion throughoutit’s time overseas. He thought that he could be ofsome service to us in Regina. He wanted the job.

Late one afternoon several of us took a jeep anddrove up to Assisi to see the Monastery foundedby St. Francis of Assisi. We got there some min-utes before sunset. That was one of the momentsof beauty in my life. It was a warm sunny day.The sun was still strong but getting low. TheMonastery is huge brick structure built on the lipof the hill. The valley below, a mat of vineyards,olive groves and fields, was in the shadow. Allwas peace and quiet. Then an organ began play-ing followed by a strong male choir. The wordsmeant nothing but the music was beautiful. It af-fected me greatly.

I stayed outside to watch the jeep while the oth-ers went into the monastery. While I was stand-ing there two nuns came along to go into the


monastery. They were leading thirty girls of allages. They walked along in pairs. Each dressed inthe same light blue, trimmed in white, uniform.Everyone of these girls was deformed in mind orin body. The setting and the music had raised meto a high plane. In the mood engendered by thatbeauty these girls were a shock. Could this reallybe Christianity? Keeping these poor creaturesalive, who could never experience the life ofGod’s creatures, without making any effort tohelp them out of their pitiful state. Incidentally, itwas at Perugia that I was given the permanentappointment of major in our Battalion.


Chapter 39: The Gothic Line

This time we were to break through the GothicLine. The Gothic Line was a prepared position ofwhich the Foglio River was the central feature.We moved into the area and were given the gen-era’ plan of attack. I went forward to make recce Igot a good vantage point, looked, and ferventlywished that my God would take me or do any-thing to spare me this. The Hitler line was infairly flat country between two mountain ridges,this was different.

From crest to crest the valley of the Foglio Riverwas about four to five miles wide. That meantthat our supporting weapons, guns, mortars, ma-chine guns, everything could not reach the Ger-man guns and mortars behind the other crestWithout going out on to the forward slope. TheTodt Organization of the German Army hadcleared everything out of the valley of the FoglioRiver. There were no trees, no bushes, no houses,It was a bare valley and every inch of it from ourside of the river bank to the far side of the valleywas covered by everything the Germans had. TheHitler line was terrible. This could only be a stu-pid slaughter.

The attack went in at night. There was gunfireand aerial bombardment to support it. We drovethrough the valley without taking our machineguns off the trucks. It was unbelievable but therewas very little fighting.

What had happened was that the Germans hadcaptured a couple of Canadians around Florence,They had established that all the Canadians werethere. The Canadians were assault troops. So theGermans had withdrawn most of their troopsfrom the Gothic line and were prepared to meet agreat thrust on the other side of the mountains.Good generalship had saved us many lives.

Just because we had crossed the Gothic Line did

not mean that Jerry liked it. There followed themost aggressive action of the German Airforcethat we experienced. I am very thankful that wedidn’t have more. We were moving a lot. Therewasn’t much opposition by day. But for severalnights in a row the aerial effort came. First wouldcome the parachute flare which seemed to lightup the world twice as bright as day. The first timeI thought that Hitler himself could see the colourof my eyes. Above the light of the flare was thedrone of the aeroplane. But you knew that thesound was away behind the actual position of theaeroplane. Then, when the light of the flare andthe sound of the planes had completely demoral-ized you, the bombs would fall where you hadleast expected them. One night Rupe Leblondand I got into some underground German shel-ters. There were a couple feet of earth over ourheads. Then, in the midst of the blitz, the thoughtoccurred to me that I might escape a direct hitfrom a bomb yet be smothered by the earth cav-ing in. We got out of there. One night, during theair raid one of our boys lost control of himselfand started running. Next morning he was foundsliced by a machine gun.

During one of the reconnaissance that I made ofthe front I got into a farm house that was built ona bit of a hill. The walls on each side were gapingwith shell holes. I guess that our guns blew inone side and Jerry’s the other.

It was a modest building with the living quarterson the second floor. The furniture and cabinetswere homemade, but they had been brightlypainted in a much more imaginative way thanwas usual. While I was there a young man andwoman, obviously man and wife, came in. Out ofthe rubble they gathered some snapshots andtrinkets. What I remember to this day was theloathing with which they regarded me.


Chapter 40: Rimini

The opposition became severe. Fighting was sav-age at Fortunato Ridge and at Rimini. For this ac-tion the Greek Brigade, which had just arrivedfrom Egypt, was put under command of the 1stCanadian Division. The Greeks were facing Rim-ini and were to undertake an aggressive holdingaction while the main thrust took place on theleft, further inland. Rostand Lahaie, with his bat-tery of mortars, and I, with ACompany machineguns, were to support the Greeks in this action.

Very few in the Greek Brigade could speak Eng-lish. At Brigade Headquarters there was a Greekspeaking English officer of the British army whowas chief Liaison Officer. He was a natural diplo-mat. His job was to understand both the BritishArmy and the Greek Army as well as the two na-tionalities and to keep the Greeks properly in-formed. At each Headquarters in the Brigadethere was an English speaking Greek. One,George, was attached to Rostand and I.

This British LO told me a story that I have neverheard mentioned elsewhere. According to him, aGreek Corps formation had been trained andequipped in Egypt. This Corps was scheduled tocome to Italy in the latter part of 1943. He saidthat the day before they were to begin to embarkthe Greeks posted guards on the quarters of theBritish LO’s to protect them and then proceededto fight each other over some Greek political con-troversy. This brigade was considered to be theonly reliable one out of that Corps.

I feel quite sure that the Greek Brigade neverproperly understood its role in this action. Fortheir part in the battle, the Greeks had one regi-ment of 25 pdrs, our mortars and our machineguns. All the rest of Canadian artillery, mortarsand machine guns and all of the tanks supporedthe thrust on the left. I don’t think that the Greeksunderstood pulling your punches, when fighting.

With them it was either all or nothing.

To begin with they did not seem to have satisfac-tory information at the Brigade Headquartersabout what was going on. I sent Phil Staynor offto our neighboring 2 Canadian Brigade Head-quarters from where he sent me information ashe got it. Rostand Lahaie didn’t always get thatinformation. Ross swore that it was he who tookRimini. He said that the Greek Brigadier told himto bomb the Greek Positions. Ross did that so ef-fectively that the Greek soldiers decided thatfighting Jerry was the lesser evil of the two.

The first time that I went up to the front line for alook, I got into a house on the southern edge ofthe airport at Rimini and from the upper rooms Ihad an excellent view. On the other side of theairport at each corner, there were 75 mm gunsmounted in panther turrets in their concrete em-placements. The Canadian Army just didn’t haveanything that could cross that airfield in the faceof those two guns.

When I came down from having my “look” Ifound that Popp and Solari, my radio operatorhad been souvenir hunting, They had found awooden walking cane that had a carved dog’shead. With proper Gallic dignity and ceremonySolari made a brief speech and presented thecane to me, I still have it. It is one of my mosttreasured Possessions.

Solari was a French speaking Canadian fromMontreal. The army signal code and procedurehad been developed to obscure the sender and re-ceiver of radio messages There was never muchobscurity about Solari’s speech. His French Cana-dian accent was far too pronounced.

I have often paid a silent tribute to the radio op-erators of the war. Whenever I was in a danger-ous area I always like to walk on foot. Away fromthe noise of a motor and any other local distrac-


tion a person could usually hear the shells com-ing. In a truck you had no chance of hearing dis-tant noises. But with both ears covered with theearphones of a crackling radio you couldn't evenhear explosions that were right beside you. Once,when we were driving through a bad spot, therewas a verbal explosion behind me from Solari,"Jesus Christ Popp. Don’t look so God damnedscared. You are making me scared.”

I always found those danger periods a trial.There is nothing more contagious than fear. I al-ways felt it to be necessary that I should appearcalm and composed. There I sat, with the musclesbehind my ears tightening to breaking point andmy hair standing on end wondering just wherethe next shell was going to fall.

This house on the edge of the airport had evi-dently been a Jerry brothel. There were odd bitsof German Army issue laying about. One roomabout ten feet square had the floor completelycovered with bed mattresses. It stank to highheaven with perfume quite a roomy place toromp.

While we were waiting for the show with theGreeks to begin we got talking about the sacri-fices that would likely be made. One Frenchspeaking Canadian got philosophical ‘When Ifirst went into action I was prepared to die. I didnot want to die but I knew that my country wasin danger. The way that my family and I hadlived was being threatened. My country hadcalled for my help. I answered that call, I wasvery frightened, but if necessary, I was ready tooffer my life. The next time I went into action Iwas not quite so frightened but my thoughtswere the same. This went on for some time. Thenone day the thought occurred to me. Instead ofoffering my life to my country and dying would-n’t it be wonderful to be able to offer my life tomy country and live, taking an active part inmaking it a better country.

The action that went in that night was not com-pletely successful. Next day about noon I wentup to the Greeks forward Company position withGeorge, my interpreter. There I saw the most re-volting sight of the war. The evening before,some of these Greeks had been clustered togetherwhen a “Moaning Minnie” landed. There were adozen killed. Those nearby, including the com-pany commanders were terrified. Shelling hadbeen more or less continuous and when I arrivedeverybody was still huddled in their slit trenches.The dead were lying where they had been struckand the farmer’s chickens were picking at theireyes, faces, etc. I forgot what I had come for andgot the company commander busy with his bur-ial party.

A “Moaning Minnie” was an ingenious inven-tion. The Germans called them NebelwerfersThey were rocket propelled bombs. The bombswere about six inches in diameter and abouteighteen inches long. They were fired in clumpsof five from a Heath Robinson contraption on atwo wheeled carriage.

A circle of five tubes was located about head highon this undercarriage. I believe that an electricalimpulse fired them in succession so that theytook off one after another and landed the sameway. I don’t know whether it was caused by theirnatural aerodynamics or whether some gadgethad been added to make the noise, but they al-ways sounded just like a freight train comingthrough the air at you. The sound was very de-moralizing. However, they traveled rather slowly.One always had plenty of time to find cover. I be-lieve that those poor Greeks were about the onlycasualties that I saw from a “Moaning Minnie.”

One time when George and I were going up tothe front we met three Greek soldiers taking twoGerman prisoners back to their Brigade Head-quarters Those two Germans were the only per-sons that I saw during the war who had bayonet


wounds. The Greeks walked behind them withfixed bayonets and every step or so jabbed theirprisoners. I exploded. As well as I could throughGeorge, I explained myself.

As we walked away George spoke to me; “Sir,this war does not mean the same to you as it doesto us. Each of those Greek soldiers had lost a rela-tive during the German campaign in Greece ear-lier in the war. They could not be impersonal."

With the Greeks we had a rest for a day or so. Wehad some houses right on the waterfront at Ric-cione. It was grand weather Ross, Phil and I hada lovely furnished dining room for our mess.Wide windows opened to give us a beautifulview of the moon shining on the Adriatic. Thatevening Rostand and Phil were comfortablyseated, drinking and talking. The windows wereopen. I was seated at a side table writing by can-dlelight. A bat flew in through the window. Al-most as if they had carefully rehearsed the part,Ross and Phil dove underneath the table, scream-ing with terror. They kept it up until Wiener,Ross’ batman, who was “duty batman” thatevening, came to the door to see what waswrong. Their terror was so genuine that Wienertook one look and fled. Of course this encour-aged the pranksters. They cried for help. FinallyPopp came to the door, he surveyed the situation,went back to the kitchen and fetched a broom,Popp entered into the spirit of the game. Fromthe security of their haven beneath the table thesetwo accomplished officers directed the battlewith technical fire order “Range three yards, Pic-ture of nude right two degrees, bat, one tap rightand left, side wind right two degrees, rapid, fire.”

Next day the Greek Brigade had a formal paradein Rimini Rostand and I drove up to watch. Thetroops were all in formation in the square. Therewere cameras all over the place. The old Greekbrigadier saw us and invited Ross and I to jointhe inspecting party. We did. I often wish that I

had one of the many pictures taken that day. Ihave never seen any, H.M. the Greek Kingawarded Rostand and I the Greek Military Cross3rd class.


Chapter 41: Another River to Cross

About this time, Gordon Young joined us. Gor-don was an “original” member of the SLI. He hadbeen sent to Officer Cadet Training Unit fromEngland. This was his first time with the Battal-ion as a commissioned officer. I took him up tohis platoon in my jeep with Popp and Solari, Gor-don will never believe that I did not plan whathappened.

Gordon’s platoon was near the seacoast. Thewater front infantry positions were beingmanned temporarily by the RCD’s. I droppedinto Regimental Headquarters to find the latestfront line positions. I don’t know who they ex-pected to deceive with their mapboard but I wasone. They had their Troop Positions marked onthe map further on than they actually were.There was an excellent broad road along the wa-terfront. I decided that we would drive along it,as far as we safely could, and then turn inland.We were wheeling along when an RCD trooperurgently motioned us to turn into the courtyardwhere he was. Popp turned without waiting to betold. Just as we passed under the trees, overhang-ing the gate, there was a “br-r-rt” and the leavesand branches a few inches about our heads fell.There was a Jerry machine gun mounted in a lit-tle steel turret fixed in the pavement about onehundred yards further on. The Jerry manning itmust have been dozing. We were pinned down inthe very front line. We had to leave Popp and So-lari to bring the jeep out after dark. We walked tothe platoon

Our work took on a routine. The brigades wererotated in the battle. So we were in action about aweek and rested three or four days. The fightinginvolved crossing one river after another. Most ofthem had high dikes to enable them to carry thespring floods. Crossing the river meant going upa very steep bank, up twenty feet high, down theother side, across the river, up another bank just

as high and then down the other side.

One day one of our platoons found five Jerrytrailers. They were small. They had pneumatictires and were designed to carry two or threehundred pounds I think that Jerry used them tocarry machine guns, They could be trailed behinda vehicle but I think that they had probably beenpulled by soldiers on foot. They were such neatlittle things. The boys were like kids with toys,Just as they were reveling in their find, a MajorBrown of the Artillery came along and attemptedto commandeer the trailers. I guess there was arow between the sergeant and Brown. When Icame along Brown had taken two trailers andwas coming back after the rest. I hunted upBrown and told him what I thought of him. Wehad some pretty sharp words. He didn’t comeback for the rest.

We drove on to have a look at the country. After Ihad seen what I wanted, I told Brady to go downthe trail to a wider place and turn around. Whilehe was doing that, I went into the vineyard andpicked a cluster of green grapes about the size ofa football. I put the whole cluster up to my face tobite one. A bee stung me just under the eye.Within half an hour the side of my face was astight as a drum. Word of my row with Brown hadspread. Immediately the row and my swollenface were connected.

The little trailers proved to be rather disappoint-ing. They were too small and not quite sturdyenough to follow the fifteen hundred weighttrucks. The boys gave me one. It was the only onethat was really used. It was just right to trail be-hind my jeep to carry my kit.

This business of the Company Commander’s kitwas quite a thing. Both Popp and Nault followedthe practice of keeping my kit and theirs together.Because of transport limitations the size of every-one’s kit was watched quite closely. But the Sergt.


Major could never catch Popp or Nault. When-ever he demanded to see what was in a bag theywould bring out a shirt, or a pair of socks orsomething that belonged to me. So long as theydid not arouse my curiosity, by the size of the kitwe carried, they were able to gather many sou-venirs.

One day I was on my way back to Brigade Head-quarters. Right smack in the middle of the inter-section, on the road to Brigade, was a Shermantank with one track off. With true British deliber-ation the English tank crew decided to brew upsome tea before they tackled the track. I got afterthe Sgt. and told him that he just had to get hisold tank off the road. This he quite easily did. Hehad just moved it when a jeep, carrying the areacommander’s flag, and driven by two provost,came by. One hundred yards behind came anopen staff car. In the rear, seated on the left, veryerect, looking so cool and calm, almost lookingclean as well, sat Gen. Alexander. On the right,wearing a sun helmet, face beet red, streamingwith sweat and caked with dust, in a rumpledarmy bush shirt sat a very uncomfortable but avery determined old man - Winston Churchill.

Brigadier Calder was up at a front line OP at thattime. One of his LO’s came up to tell him thatWinston Churchill was in his area. “Don’t be ab-surd.” Calder went on observing. Then he beganto wonder, Could it be that he was? By the timehe got back Churchill had left.

The “brew-up” were quite a rite. Army biscuitswere sent out in hermitically sealed light tinsabout six inches square and about eight incheshigh. The boys would take a salmon can, fill ithalf full of sand, pour in some gasoline and setthis between a couple of bricks or stones. The bis-cuit tin was on top of the bricks, full of water, thegasoline was lit and before long you had tea. Thathappened a dozen times a day. Actually it provedto be the most refreshing drink that one could get

on a hot dusty day, and it was there when youwere cold and wet. The biscuit tin was soon cov-ered with a coat of soot. Every truck had a tinhanging underneath - it was too dirty to carry inthe truck. But one could make delicious tea in itwithin minutes.

Our brigade was to cross another river. It hadhigh dikes. This time a new wrinkle was tried. In-telligence had closely studied the opposite front.At one spot, where the dikes were very high,there did not appear to be very many enemy. Atnight, without artillery or any other bangs our in-fantry stealthily climbed over the dikes andacross the river at this lightly manned spot. Afterthe immediate area was free, jeeps hauling sixpounds AT guns were winched over the river anddikes. Twice that night I went in to see Brig.Calder. “How are things going Sir?”

“Splendid our whole party have gotten acrosswithout a casualty”

“The machine guns are ready sir, do you wantthem to cross now?”

“No, no, we will wait until daylight to tidy thingsup. When we see what the situation looks like,then we will cross.” When daylight came a Tigertank, in the security of the high dikes, did thetidying up. Everyone was lost. For the Brigadewhat was almost as damaging was that hisBrigade Major had gone along with the patrol.

When we were in action, formal parades wereimpossible. So we made a point of having at leastone spit and polish parade during each rest pe-riod. This particular time, the weather was dis-agreeable and cold. I came across one man, Joe,who did not have any underwear or socks. Hesaid that he did not have any. I asked the CSM tocheck into it and report to me.

When questioned by the Quartermaster he


started to swear. Joe had just returned from leaveand before going on leave the Quartermaster hadgiven him a complete new outfit.

When confronted with this Joe explained. On thisleave he had met a beautiful doll. His pay wassoon spent on entertainment. On one of his lastdays on leave he communed with himself, “Joeyou can’t afford to wear sixteen dollar under-wear.”

Our Battalion went into a rest period at RiccioneOur Company got there first, I met an Italian ar-chitect from whom I bought my camera. We gotto know him quite well. For one week he cameevery evening to instruct us in the Italian lan-guage,


Chapter 42: The Savio River

Back in action again we resumed the old routine.Fighting was severe. After a couple of sessionsour Company was told that we would have oneweek to rest. My jeep was in bad shape so Popptook it to the rear workshop for an overhaul. Wegot the dentist and he surveyed the Companyand proceeded to fix teeth. My jeep was goneonly a few hours when I got word that we had togo back into action. There was trouble at theSavio River and all of the machine guns were tobe used. For a vehicle I ordered up a two wheeldrive Bedford from the Quartermaster.

MacArthur was the driver. He had never beencloser to the front than rear Company Headquar-ters. I reported at Brigade Headquarters where Iwas given the dope. Rupe Leblond had his com-pany in near where I was to go and he describedthe road. The river ran diagonally across themain road. The side roads were parallel to theriver. So the side road I was to turn down was atan acute angle to the main road. The trees werequite large and thick in this area. The ground wasflat with many ditches for drainage. The mainroad ran to the river bank, then it followed acurve in the river for a quarter of a mile and thenbroke away parallel to the other side roads.

We drove along the main road alright. We cameto a bit of a trail where our road should havebeen but not only was it a slightly used trail, but,also, right where it joined the main road, therewas a huge shell crater in the centre of the trail.Rupe had said that the road was good. So wedrove on. All at once the trees broke and there wewere right on the river bank with Jerry on theother bank. MacArthur spoke. “Will I turnaround, Sir?”

“No. For God’s sake step on the gas.” There werewhole trees, with trunks seven and eight inchesin diameter, lying across the road. The old Bed-

ford never rode so smoothly or so swiftly before.We got halfway down the open stretch before theshells started to fall right in the centre of the roadabout twenty five yards behind us. I never saidanything and MacArthur assumed that that wasroutine at the front. He was pleased when Poppreturned.

The battle was very fierce. Smoky Smith earnedhis VC here. But we did not get across the river.Several attempts were made.

Jerry became quite aggressive. He shelled thewhole area heavily and continuously. Another at-tack was laid on to cross at a different spot. I hadto get new positions for the Company. This re-connaissance was going to be a hot one. It wasquite likely that I would get hit. So I took WaltHogg along. In case one failed to make the circuitthe other could carry on.

We walked on foot. It was a case of running onehundred yards and then hiding in a drainageditch. Our time was limited. We found suitablepositions and marked each map. Then we wentback to Company Headquarters where the otherplatoon commanders were to Rendezvous. Wegot to within one hundred and fifty yards of thecluster of buildings where Company Headquar-ters was. Jerry had the whole area blanketed withshellfire. We waited in the ditch. Time was run-ning out. The more that I used the less the pla-toon commanders would have. We had to getthere. There was a momentary lull. We ran andmade it.

We reached Company Headquarters winded.Bursting through the door we were greeted byEmbury: “Mitch, that Company of yours is on thebit. I gave the platoons their orders to move andthey were all in position and firing within twentyminutes.” He had picked up my orders atBrigade Headquarters, come on to my CompanyHeadquarters, found the platoon commanders


there, and gave them their positions from themap. Gordon Young summed it up. “God! I betyou were mad.” We proved just how good theCompany was by moving into the positions that Ihad selected in time to do our job.


Chapter 43: Riccione

We went into rest at Riccione again. Considerabletraining was done. Gen. Vokes, as Corps com-mander, visited us one day and announced rota-tional leave to Canada. That gave one a queerfeeling. It was almost like getting a call to heaven.One was not quite sure to be glad or not. For itseemed certain that one could never re-enter thislife again. That was when Vokes told us to makesure that the next generation included people likeourselves.

We had a good Officer’s Mess in Riccione. Wehad a dance in the mess one night. For the occa-sion the mess secretary had contacted the Cana-dian Army hospitals in the area for volunteersfrom the nursing ranks. Then he posted on thebulletin board a list of the available nurses ateach hospital and the officer who was to pickthem up. I was to get a nurse from one location.She turned out to be a very pleasant Canadiangirl of about thirty years. Entering the mess I gother a drink of the rum punch and introduced heraround. After the punch I asked if there was anyother drink that she preferred. “Yes, there is,Scotch is my drink. Please bring me a beer for achaser.” I got her a double scotch and a beer.Sandy Campbell, our paymaster, took me asideand asked, “Mitch, what do you say if I takeyour woman home?” “O.K. Sandy. Go rightahead.”

The girl proved to be quite popular. She dancedwith many. From each officer she got a doublescotch with a beer for a chaser. After an hour orso of this Sandy came back to me. “Mitch, forChrist’s sake take that woman of your’s home.No human can stand what she is drinking.”

The party lasted another couple hours. My“woman” seemed unaffected by what she haddrunk. The only difference, at the end, was thatshe was pals with everyone and did not hesitate

to ask for a scotch with a beer for a chaser. Iagreed with Sandy that no human could standwhat she drank. But she did.

Five of us officers went on leave together inRome. The Canadian Army had taken over ahotel there and dubbed it Chateau Laurier. It wasa thrill to be in Rome. We were almost the com-plete tourist sight seers for one week. I had visu-alized the historic part of the city. After seeingPompeii, I even had an idea what it looked like. Ifound the catacombs and underground passagesintriguing. But I was not prepared for the ultramodernity of the modern part of Rome, nor forthe magnificence and beauty of its’ churches. Thescale and perspective of St. Peter’s is stupendous.To think that someone had that concept one thou-sand years ago, and dared to build it.

Ross and I spent one morning in an art dealersshop that was near our hotel. He was not busyand he got out hundreds of paintings to show usthe various features of fine art. For our souvenirthere was a painting of a lady getting out of hersedan chair that we both liked. We tossed to seewho would buy it. I won.

That night in the Opera house I saw one of thefinest things that I have seen created by man. In asense it was a variety night at the Opera. This oneoffering was called, “Hymn to the Sun.” Whilethe orchestra played the music the appropriatescene was portrayed on the stage. It started offwith a starlit night. All the night sounds. Thendawn gradually developed, the climax comingwith the vaulting of the sun over the mountaintop. It impressed me greatly.

One day I met up with an American officer Hetook me out to where the American officers leavecentre was, They had taken over the dormitoriesthat were on the sports grounds that Mussoliniwas building for the Olympic games when thewar intervened. More modern buildings.


I think that I got a bottle of Whiskey for this offi-cer. It was of little consequence on my part, buthe felt under an obligation. Would I like to seeKatherine Cornell and Brian Aherne in the “Bar-retts of Wimpole Street?” I certainly would. Wewent around to the American Red Cross office onthe grounds. There I was introduced to a hostess.I was downright embarassed by the girl’s man-ner. She was very good looking, tall handsomewell fed and well scrubbed looking. I guess youmight call her a personality kid. At any rate herenthusiastic eagerness to talk to me and her con-cern for my welfare seemed overdone. This girlgave me tickets to the play.

I don’t recall the name of the theatre but it wasthe most modern I have ever been in. Of coursethe Players were superb. It was a splendid show.

We usually did our sight seeing in pairs, aroundmidnight just before turning in, we always con-gregated in the lounge of the hotel, here, over anightcap, we would exchange experiences. Onenight a sloppy looking old man, dressed in a bat-tle dress without any insignia, came over andasked to join the group. We refused his profferedround of drinks and were very wary. He intro-duced himself as the representative of the ChiefElectoral Officer of Canada. He was in Italy tomake preparations so that the soldiers could takepart in the coming federal election. Had he beenprepared to say no more everything would havebeen alright. Instead he immediately began topour out a torrent of sympathy for us poor Cana-dians in the 8th Army. Canada sent equipment tothe 8th Army. They gave that equipment to everynationality in their command. All up and downItaly he had met poor Canadian boys who wereforced to drive English made trucks. He was cer-tainly going to see that the right people heardabout it. “Gee Whizz! I hope that they don’t takeaway my Bedford trucks from me.” It Was Ros-tand, I was furious to think of a fellow like thatspreading such silly nonsense. Think of the un-

rest he could stir up. All those damned foreignersdriving Canadian trucks and good Canadiansdoing without. I told him that if he didn’t changehis line I would call the provost. I don’t think thathe liked it.

We usually had our evening meal at a restaurant,at Villa Borghese. This night one man was miss-ing. After waiting a bit we started our meal. Partway through there was a commotion at the doornear the head waiter’s station. The headwaiterwas snapping his fingers. Three waiters camerunning to attend the approaching royalty. Incame a lovely brunette dreamboat gilded in furcoat and all. In her wake followed our missingbrother. We might as well have been back inCanada. Certainly, judging by his actions, wewere not in the same room with him. He didn’tsee us. The regal party passed our table. Ourbrother warrior shielded his mouth with his handand whispered, “fifty bucks.” Had he written abook he could not have said more.

On Our Way to Rome we had been stopped at theBailey bridge near Perugia to allow a PolishArmy convoy to pass. There were several differ-ent Units. Aweek later, on our way back to Ric-cione we were held up at the same bridge by thesame Polish Army units traveling the opposite di-rection. I walked forward to the bridge to watchthem go by. There I met an English Lt. Col. wear-ing 8th Army staff insignia. I told him of the curi-ous co-incidence. “Yes, I know.” What hadhappened was that 8th Army alerted the PolishCorps telling them to be ready to move on a shortnotice. Without waiting for further orders theymoved. Then 8th Army changed it’s plans. ThePoles were in the wrong place.


Chapter 44: We Get New Generals

When we went back into action times hadchanged. At a high level it had been decided toration the supplies to our front in order that theoperation in North West Europe might have themore. Our machine guns were limited to amonthly expenditure of 100,000 rounds of ammu-nition, We could easily fire off 9,000 rounds inone minute of normal action, That is our gunswere limited to eleven minutes firing per month.Of course we carried our normal supply of am-munition. We went along for the ride so that ifJerry attacked we would be there.

The new Brigade Commander was DesmondSmith. He was a young permanent force officer.Because of his youth, I suppose, he built up a bar-rier between himself and the rest of us, the sym-bol was his corrugated iron privy which wastoted around for his personal use. However, Icame to have a great deal of respect for him. I ad-mired his patience and firmness during one nightattack when it was quite obvious that the battleweary infantry were not really trying.

We got a change of command at the top. Gen,Simmons and Gen, Vokes went to NW Europeand were replaced by Gen. Foulkes and Gen. Fos-ter. They soon came to be known throughout theCorps as Albert and Leopold. They related everysituation to what had been done on the Albertand Leopold Canals. Though I was in the Corpsfor three months I never did see Gen. Foulkes,Rupe and Les Clough were the only officers inour Battalion, besides the Commanding Officerwho ever saw him. They saw Foulkes one after-noon in the Ravenna Officers Club Pre-viewing afloor show.

An action was laid on in which our brigade wasto do a holding operation All supporting armsexcept machine guns and mortars were divertedfor the main thrust. With a straight poker face,

Brig. Smith asked me to lay on a fire plan for themachine guns. With great care I prepared an elab-orate fire plan calling for the expenditure of120,000 rounds over a period of ninety minutes.Smith looked it over, made a few suggestions andwe pared it down to 100,000 rounds. Gen, Fosterarrived at Brigade Headquarters. He looked overall the plans and said, “Fine, Fine. Everything issplendid.” Smith never said anything. Everybodyacted as though waiting for me to get going anddoing. This game had gone too far. I was underthe gun. I spoke. “Sir, there is only one thingwrong. I have no authority to fire that ammuni-tion, our ammunition is rationed.”

How impudent can a person be to a brand newgeneral? Gen, Foster flushed but kept his temper,“There is no restriction on ammunition for offen-sive action.” That was music to my ears, I did notargue with him. I went off and told my boys tofire their beloved Vickers.

Every morning at 0800 hours each company senta sitrep into Battalion Headquarters giving ex-penditure of men and ammunition. The reportsof the Battalion were on the Commanding Offi-cer’s desk for his information at 0900 hours. Nextmorning I made a point of being near my tele-phone at 0900 hours, at 0905 it rang. “Mitchellhave you seen your sitrep?”“Yes Sir.”“What the hell do you think you are doing?”“General’s orders Sir.”“Did you get those orders in writing?”“No Sir.”

For one month from that date our machine gunsnever fired a round. My boys were happy but inthe rest of the Battalion my name stank. We hadto follow the brigade around the battlefield butwe could not fire.

That episode further hardened my contempt forthe Permanent Force Army. The order rationing


our ammunition came from 8th Army and imple-mented a decision made on the level of Churchilland Roosevelt. Everyone at Corps Headquarterseveryone at Division Headquarters, and every-one at Brigade Headquarters knew about it. Butthe end of the war was beginning to come intosight. Post war army politics were uppermost inthe minds of the Permanent Force. No one atCorps, Division or Brigade wanted to be the oneto suggest to these newly arrived generals thatthere might be some limits to their authority.

The PLDG’s had taken over the infantry positionson one sector. To give one of their SquadronsChristmas out of the line the SLI was to put in amachine gun company. Embury turned to mefirst. That was one time that I talked myself outof a job. I had no desire whatever to attempt a joblike that. I argued against it. Embury gave the jobto Clough. Poor Les. I saw him when he cameout. I don’t think that he slept during those threedays in the infantry positions.

We were in position doing our normal role overChristmas. We were out of the line, in scatteredhouses around Russi for the New Year 1945.Company Headquarters was in a railway station.Len Bastedo, my new Second in command, and Ilived over the rotunda of the station, we had toclimb about forty steps to get to it.

For this festive season all our Company had col-lected like connoisseurs. Wine of all kinds, co-gnac, whiskeys, beer, all drinks and many foods.It was going to be an occasion, the afternoon ofNew Year’s Eve all seemed to be in readinessEarly in the afternoon we decided to visit Battal-ion Headquarters. From there we would go to themortars. During the evening we would visit eachof our platoons and Company Headquarters.Then at midnight we would go back to BattalionHeadquarters.

When we arrived at Battalion Headquarters we

announced that the “fighting troops” had ar-rived. Everyone gave us a drink. The eveningmeal we had with Tommy de Faye at Mortars.Then we set out for our platoons. By this time wewere in good humour and drank everything thatwas offered. The platoons had everything thatthere was. I do not remember the third platoon,By the time we got to Company Headquarters Iwanted to sleep. Poor Len had to play a game ofone, two, three up on each of the forty steps toget me to my bed. Luckily the Orders Groupcalled at Brigade Headquarters next day was can-celled. I was a casualty.

Early in January 1945, Embury left to take hisplace in the Legislature. Drayton Walker becameCommanding Officer. Always eager to solve anyproblem, Drayton solved our ammunition prob-lem by getting bandolier Mk VII which weloaded into our belts by hand. Gun barrels were aproblem too. We had one through which we hadfired Mk VIII and a new one. Drayton orderedthat we were to keep the new one for Mk VIII,should an emergency allow us to shoot Mk VIII,and that we fire Mk VII through our used MkVIII barrels. I protested, This was contrary to ex-plicit instructions that we had received from theSmall Arms School at Netheravon. The Mk VIIIball is shaped differently and the Mk VIII chargeis stronger. Mk VIII wears the barrel differentlyand at different places to the Mk VII. To miss thetarget was serious enough. But we fired over ourown troops. To spray them with our ammunitionwould be unforgivable. The Commanding Officerpersisted

I went back to ACompany in distress. I calledthose Non Commissioned Officers in the Com-pany who had been at Netheravon. They agreedwith me. Then I called in my officers. I explainedthe Commanding Officer’s orders and what I hadlearned at Netheravon. Then I told them to con-tinue to keep their Mk VIII barrel for Mk VIII am-munition and to use the new barrel for Mk VII.


Within a week my contention was vindicated,every time the other two Companies opened firetheir infantry immediately called to them to stop.Our boys fired over our troops many times. Wedid not have stray bullets.

A couple weeks after Walker became Command-ing Officer I was transferred to command theMortars. We were taking up static positions forthe winter in front of Bagnacavallo. To ensureeasier communications we buried our telephonecable. The ground was frozen just a bit. The waythe boys solved that problem was to get fourfarmers each to put his yoke of oxen on onewalking plough. A few packages of cigarettes andthe line was buried. Rupe was my Second-in-Command. We had our Headquarters in Russi.We were quite comfortable. We had collection ofpin up girls with which we decorated our mess.The centre of attraction and our idol was a sundrenched wench whom we called Rita.

At that time a new technique was being devel-oped. AA searchlights were being used to assistthe infantry at night. A beam shining overheadtowards the enemy helped to keep direction, itmade it easier for our boys to see and it was moredifficult for Jerry to see when looking into thelight. On a foggy night the effects were spectacu-lar. The searchlight shone into the sky at aboutforty degrees angle. From its beam refracted rays,all colours of the rainbow, would drop down, likeicicles hanging from an eave. It was beautiful. Itook several pictures of it but on black and whitefilm I lost the beauty.

Various techniques were being developed. Oneday I was checking registered targets with one ofmy platoon commanders. Three of his targetswere exactly on the spot of the forward platoonsof the R22R. The platoon commander was surethat they were the exact targets that had beengiven him at the R22R Battalion Headquarters. Iwent to see the Commanding Officer of the R22R,

Lt. Col. Allard, “Sir, do you know that three tar-gets that your people gave us are your own posi-tions?” “Sure, we tell them to keep their headsdown.”

When a Jerry patrol visited these outposts, the in-fantry would call up mortars and machine gunsfor a few rounds. Then after we had dealt withthem our infantry would go out and receive theirvisitors.

From Russi, Wes and I went on leave to Florence,Popp drove us. The Canadian leave hotel wascalled Hotel MacDonald. The hotel was good. Wehad a good leave in Florence but, of course, wedid not find the variety of attractions that therewere in Rome.

We visited the shops on the old Ponte Vecchio.That old relic had been spared destruction bymutual agreement of both sides. Florence is sup-posed to have long been the home of artisans ofpierced silver jewelry. We bought some in a shopon the Ponte Vecchio. In Florence there is a “grassmarket” that has been in operation for a thou-sand years. There, all sorts of articles made fromgrass, are sold. We went all through that. Iwanted a pair of bedroom slippers. We stoppedat a stall run by an old woman who really was asaleswoman. She had some slippers. The soleswere of woven grass. The uppers were of somecheap cloth. Somehow she tied the slippers inwith a close weave crocheted hair net and sort ofover blouse net sweater. There might have beentwo ounces of rayon yarn in the crocheted arti-cles. The whole “package deal” was priced atthirteen dollars. I said that that was ridiculous. Iwould give her nine dollars. The poor woman.She wailed; she shed tears; she told me about herpoor bambini. They were going to starve becauseI was so mean. Wes got into the scene: “Mitchell,you tight wad. Don’t be so damn chippy. Givethe poor woman what she wants. Think of herbambini. Come on be a man and pay.”


I refused to pay and walked away. The womancapitulated. Because I was such a nice, kind, manshe would sell me the package deal for nine dol-lars. I bought them, Wes decided that that was agood bargain so he bought a package deal also.

In Florence we always walked, Popp would re-port to us each morning. When all was well hewould go on his way. The next morning, after wehad been in the grass market, he arrived in a verygood mood. “Sir, I sure made a good buy yester-day. I have all my gifts bought now.” Just as soonas he spoke I had a premonition of what he wasgoing to say. He had bought the same “packagedeal” that we had bought. Popp had paid fivedollars for it.

Each evening, before going to bed, we gatheredin the lounge to talk. One evening I was talkingto an Army Service Corps officer from DivisionHeadquarters. We were near the main traffic wayin the lounge. A little West Nova Scotia Captainand two lieutenants came into the lounge. Theywere quite tight. As they walked by, one of thelieutenants struck the seated CRASC officer inthe jaw. I jumped up. A leave hotel was the lastplace for a fight.

I went over to the little Captain and told him toget his fellows out of there. He was ready foranything. Putting his chin up against my chest:“Look Bud, you can’t throw that crown aroundhere.” The lounge was full of officers, everybodyroared. The drunks were literally laughed out ofthe place.

Back at Mortars we developed a daily routine inour static positions. Jerry did a lot of shelling. Hehad a variety of guns and reached far back. How-ever, we had our daily inspections, weeklyawards for the best mortar crew. We published alittle news sheet. Rupe and I communed dailywith Rita. We made a happy life out of warfare.


Chapter 45: Rotational Leave

Towards the end of February the Canadiansstarted on the trek to NW Europe. Just before, Ileft for Canada on rotational leave. Two hundredand fifty of us from 1st Canadian Division gath-ered at Avellino to await shipping to Canada. Weofficers spent that time, which was about oneweek, in a little hill village near by.

There was very little for us to do. We went forlong walks during the day. Once we visited a lit-tle mill where the Italians were shelling and bag-ging hazelnuts. I have never seen so many nuts atonce. At night we usually hung around the bar.Darts, ping pong, crap, and drinking. Every nightHugh Hopper of our Battalion, would drink onetoo many and refuse to stop singing OperaticArias. Every night Harper Prouse, of the LoyalEdmonton Regiment would drink one too many.He would take off his clothes, carefully pile them,and then announce to all the world that the LoyalEdmonton Regiment was the best fighting battal-ion in the world and that he was ready to proveit. Every night the officer in charge of the placewould get Ted Day, of the Loyal Edmonton Regi-ment, and myself to restore peace and quiet inthe mess.

Our mess, in this little village, was on the secondstorey with a balcony overlooking the mainsquare. Sunday, about 1200 hours, a brass band ofabout thirty instruments assembled below ourbalcony and started playing. They were still play-ing at midnight. Throughout that interval, bands-men would break off and go home, newcomerswould join the band. No one in particular ap-peared to be the leader. It seemed to be a sponta-neous effort. They would play a selection. Thenwe would throw them a package of cigarettes.They would play another, more cigarettes.

This musical talent of the Italians was one thingthat I admired and envied. It seemed that many

had very little formal education. It also seemedthat most Italians were trained or gifted musi-cally. Nearby every household had a musical in-strument. In every household one would hearoperatic arias beautifully sung. I heard singing, ina humble house in Sicily, that I appreciated morethan that which I heard in the opera houses inNaples and Florence,

The following was written by Sgt. McKay, one ofour boys. It expressed my thoughts.

The Panorama of Italy.

If I were an artist with nothing to do,I’d paint a picture, a composite view,Of Historic Italy in which I’d showVisions of contrast, the high and the low.

There’d be towering mountains, a deep blue sea,Filthy brats yelling carmella at me,High plumed horses and colorful carts,Two toned tresses on hustling tarts,

I’d show Napoleonic Caps “The Carabinerie”,Disgusted old women with too much to carry,A dignified old gentleman with a balboa beard,Bare bottomed bambinis with both ends smeared,

Castles and palaces and opera house tooHotel on a mountain, a marvelous view,Homes made of weeds, brick and mudPeople covered with sores, scurvy and scud.

Chapels and churches, great to behold,Each a king’s ransom in glittering gold,Poverty and want, men craving for food,Picking through garbage, practically nude.

Stately cathedrals, with high toned bells,Recovers shelters with horrible smells,Moulding catacombs, a plea for the dead,Noisy civilians, clambering for bread.


Palatial villas, with palm trees tall,An odorous hovel, a hole in the wall,Free fringed lawns, swept by the breeze,Kids wading in filth up to their knees.

Revealing statues, all details complete,A sensual lass, with sores on her feet,Big breasted damsels, wearing never a braBumping against you, there should be a law.

Creeping boulevards, a spangled stream,Alleys that wind like a dope fiend’s dream,Flowers that bloom on the side of a hill,Sidewalk latrines, with privacy - NIL.

Two-by-four shops, with all stalls bare,Gesturing merchants, arms flailing the air,Narrow gauge sidewalks, more like a shelf,Butt puffing youngsters, scratching themselves.

Lumbering carts hugging the road,Nondescript trucks, frequently towed,Diminutive donkeys, loaded for bear,Horse drawn taxis, searching for fare.

Determined pedestrians, courting disaster,Walking in gutters, where movement is faster,Italian drivers, accident bound,Weaving and twisting to cover the ground.

Home made brooms, weeds tied to a stick,Used on the street to clear the slick,Bicycles and push-carts blocking your path,Street corner politicians, needing a bath.

Barbers galore, with manners quite mild,Prolific women, heavy with child,Ii Duce’s secret weapon, kids by the score,Caused by his bonus, which is no more.

Arrogant wretches, picking up snipes,Miniature fists, various types,Young street singers, hand-organ tunes,Shoe-shine boys, a sidewalk saloon.

A beauteous maiden, a smile on her face,With a breath of garlic fouling the place,A listless housewife, no shoes on her feet,Washing and cooking out on the street.

The night washing, a tattle-tale grey,Hangs from the balcony, blocking the way,Native coffee, Oh! what a mixture,Tiled bathrooms, with one extra fixture,

Families dining from one common bowl,Next to the fish store, a terrible hole,Italian Zoot-Suiters flashily dressed,Bare-footed beggars, looking depressed.

Mud-smeared children, clustering about,Filling their jugs from one common spout,A dutiful mother, with a look of despair,Picking lice from her young daughter’s hair.

Capable craftsmen, skilled in their art,Decrepit old shack, falling apart,Intricate needle work out on display,Surrounded by filth, rot and decay.

Elegant caskets, carved out by hand,Odorous factories, where leather is tanned,A hosemaker’s shop, a black market store,Crawling with vermin, no screen on the door.

I’ve tried to describe all that I’ve seen,Panorama of Italy, the brown and the green,I’ve neglected the war score, visible yet,But those are things, we all want to forget.

I’m glad that I came, but damned anxious to go,GIVE IT BACK TO THE NATIVES, I’M READYTO BLOW!

We boarded two empty American Liberty shipsat Naples, half on each. They were returning toNew York, Our skipper was a miserable wretchwho had been a deck hand before the war. Helaid on stupid orders regarding black out, venti-


lation, and meal arrangements. We could only doas he bid. Lt. Col. Bell, of the RCAMC, was thesenior in our party. I did not envy the role that hehad to play in dealing with the skipper. Theship’s crew hated the skipper even worse thanwe did. We stopped at Algiers for something. Theskipper went ashore in a launch. As he wasclimbing down the rope ladder, in all his finery,the crew “accidentally” dumped a can of garbageon to him. Aminor eruption followed.

We were twenty one days making the journey toNew York. We traveled a southern route. We hadbeautiful sunshine and calm seas all the way. Itwas a grand trip. We had American army rations.There was lots to eat. And we liked it at first. Butafter a few days we tired of the seasoning andflavouring. Being an American ship there was noliquor aboard save what we carried. That soonran out. After living with liquor, of all kinds, forso long, that seemed a real hardship.

As soon as we pulled away from the dock inNaples the deck hands set about cleaning up theship. From the unloading operations there hadbeen left, lying about the deck, several heavyrope cargo sling nets, many iron turnbucklesabout an inch or so in diameter and various otherodds and ends. Everything looked brand new tome. It likely was, as this was a new ship. Thedeck hands threw them all over board. We wereshocked, such a callous disregard for the effortand dangers that people had endured to get suchmaterial into this area.

The sailor who cleared the deck by throwingeverything overboard was a cornfed husky fromthe hills of Kentucky. One day I had tired of read-ing and I was lying in the sun on the deck withmy book by my side. Cornfed Kentucky came by:“Why aren’t you reading your book?” “Oh myeyes got tired so I thought that I would rest thema while.” “That is just what I thought. I nevercould see much good in being able to read.”

We docked in New York just before dusk. We sawthe famous skyline. At midnight we were takenacross the harbour in a ferry. There was a verythick fog in the harbour and that ferry travelledat a furious speed. I kept thinking what irony tosurvive, years of warfare just to drown in NewYork harbour.

But we did not. We boarded trains for Montreal.On the train we were divided into parties for thevarious parts of Canada. I was in charge of thegroup going to Winnipeg. We were to travel onthe Transcontinental. We had an hour and a halfto wait in Montreal.

As soon as I got off I telephoned Rostand’smother and fiancée and arranged to meet them.The rest of the boys set out to “see the joint”. Fif-teen minutes before our train was due to leave Iwalked into the Union Station. From the din inthere one would have expected to see at least onethousand soldiers. We were only sixty-five. Afterthree weeks on a dry Liberty ship they hadsoaked up a lot of liquor during the one hour inMontreal. They were singing. They were playingleap frog. They were horsing around. There wereArmy transit people, army provost and railwayofficials all trying to persuade these fellows to geton to the train. They were not having anything todo with zombies. Certainly they were not takingorders from them.

As soon as I appeared on the scene the boys gaveforth with a cheer. I walked through the stationand onto the train. Like a bunch of sheep theyfollowed without question or without an orderbeing given, after the train pulled out we countednoses. Two were missing. I informed the Transitpeople by wire. Next morning we found themissing pair asleep in the baggage car.

In Winnipeg very elaborate arrangements hadbeen made to receive us. Offices had been set upin the station for documentation. What did I want


to do after my months leave, go back overseas ordo home duty? I could not imagine serving in theArmy in Canada, I wanted to go overseas again.

As we finished documentation we walkedthrough a raised open doorway overlooking themain foyer of the station. It was like going onstage. A band was playing, the foyer was full ofpeople waiting to greet their loved ones. It wasMarch 22nd, 1945.


Chapter 46: Overseas Again

When I returned from leave the war in Europewas about finished. A force was being organizedfor the Pacific theatre. But there was to be an oc-cupational force in Europe. I feared grave eco-nomic disturbances in the post war period. Iwanted to weather them in the occupationalforce. The military authorities had no precedentsto follow. My documents said that I was to gooverseas. I wanted to go overseas. So I was sentoverseas.

While awaiting movement orders, in Winnipeg, Iwas sent out to Camp Shilo to conduct an inquiryinto the loss of a couple of hand grenades. Thatconvinced me that I didn’t want service inCanada. At noon, while eating in the mess atShilo, I sat at the table with a couple of CWAC’s.They were having a normal East West verbalduel. Finally the Eastern girl said: “Now let us bereasonable. Just take the district surrounding thiscamp site. Can you imagine anyone being satis-fied to live around here?”

I spoke up: “My grandfather homesteaded atDouglas.” That was just a few miles away.Our shipload assembled at Debert, N.S. Thecamp commandment, at Debert, was a Lt. Col.Mitchell, who, in civilian life, was a Halifax busi-ness man. He was a connoisseur of lobsters. Thehighlight of our stay at Debert was the lobsterdinner that was served in the mess there.

In the party that assembled were Major HarryPrice, longtime 2 Canadian Infantry Brigade pay-master and Maj. J.D. MacKintosh. Of course weimmediately formed a triumvirate for the jour-ney. At each step along the way Price would lookafter the pay wrinkles, J.D. the medicals and I theordinary disposition. We could usually gothrough any depot with a minimum of red tape.

One day we were sightseeing in Halifax. After an

hour or so we decided that we needed a beer.There was only one way. We bought a case ofbeer and engaged a hotel room in which to drinkit. That ended our sightseeing. All those restric-tions were enacted in the interests of sobriety.

We boarded the Aquitania. All three of us keptour fingers crossed. Was this crazy thing of usgoing overseas actually going to happen? On theships PA system came a call for Major Mitchell toreport to the ship’s orderly room. That was it.Our spirits sank. In the orderly room I was put incharge of all the lifeboat stations on the port sideof the ship. When I reported this to Price and JDthey were jubilant.

Lifeboat drill on that ship was difficult. The warwas over. But the skipper insisted that there wasdanger from mines and from lunatic submarinesas well as the ordinary shipping danger. Lifeboatdrill and black out had to be strictly observed. Hewas right. But not many agreed with him.

Among the ship load were a group of RAF per-sonnel returning from training duty at CanadianAir training schools. JD had command of onelifeboat load of these RAF people. JD insisted ona bit of discipline during roll call. They weren’thaving any part of this army business. I had tointerfere to put them in their place. An onlookerto this episode was Dr. Coleman the Under Secre-tary of State from the Canadian External AffairsDept. He was extremely worried lest this shoulddevelop into a clash of nationalities. But it didnot. He was uncle of the Loyal Edmonton Regi-ment's Coleman.

Also on board were a contingent from NationalHeadquaters in Ottawa going on a Cook’s tour.Their missions were legitimate enough but theyhad been chosen, each. for his particular mission,as a reward for service in the hectic warfare inOttawa. They thought that they knew the ropeswell enough to get through the various depots. I


suspected JD of having some part in what hap-pened. Maybe he didn’t. At any rate the em-barkation people were not satisfied and they allhad to have their preventative shots again. Manywere quite sick.

The SLI were at de Bilt which is near Utrecht inHolland. My journey there was quite direct. Icrossed the Channel in an LST landing at Ostend.I got a train to Ghent and by various routes ar-rived at de Bilt. Going through Belgium I was fas-cinated by the beautiful big horses. I was alsointrigued by the sight of a single horse pullingtwo wagon loads of hay, neither of them with a“shaft” or “tongue” to enable the horse to keepthe load from running into him. It was a flatcountry and they were not needed.

The train that carried me to Ghent did not have alatrine on it. My Italian “funny tummy” had re-turned. I had diahorrea. I was in a bad conditionwhen I got off the train. A provost directed me tothe latrine. When I got there I found that themen’s section was filled. I was desperate. Thewoman attendant noticed my agony. She beck-oned to me, lead me into the women’s section,wiped off the seat of the toilet, handed me somepaper and closed the door. That was sympathyand service as well.


Chapter 47: de But

The night before I arrived at de But the Battalionofficers had held a mess dinner. I just missed it.But Tommy de Faye, who was with the Occupa-tional Force in Germany, was still around. Italked with him. There were definite rumoursthat the Occupational Force would soon be dis-banded and returned to Canada. That upset myplans. If I was not going to miss the period ofeconomic disturbance in Canada then my bestplan seemed to be to get out of the Army asquickly as I could. I must return with the Battal-ion.

Drayton Walker had been appointed sports offi-cer for the Division. His job was to create sportsactivity during the period that the Division was.awaiting shipping to return. He laid on that hewould inspect our Battalion each Saturday morn-ing. The rest of the time I was in command.

There was a multitude of most unmilitary activi-ties afoot. The Battalion’s entire equipment wasbeing reconditioned and turned in. I understoodthat much of it went to our Allies, the Russiansfor use against the Japanese. Once that job wasfinished, then the situation did become unreal. Itwas hard to soldier without any equipment.

The most urgent matter was to keep up moraleand to retain control. A great many “Zombies”with “box car numbers” had joined the battalion.These people had usually soldiered for sometimein Canada and had gotten accustomed to disci-pline as followed there. Few had seen any action.On the punishment side I had a rule of thumb.One day detention for each hour AWL. It seemedto work, especially with our older hands, themost impressive aspect of detention was havingtheir hair shaved off. That was the supreme hu-miliation which they avoided at all costs. A lot ofthe Zombies found European liquor outlets tooeasy for them. Many were apprehended for mis-

behavior while drunk. Evidently in Canada toplead drunkenness had been a mitigating influ-ence in army justice. I remember my first trial of aZombie: “What is the idea of getting into troublelike this?” “I was drunk, Sir.” “I was drunk lastnight, too, I didn’t get into trouble. Why didyou?” I thought the poor fellow’s jaw woulddrop off.

But we did not have much trouble. We had twothree ton trucks which we kept on the road tour-ing the country. Tours were taken in turn thesame as leave, There was generous leave to Paris,Amsterdam, Antwerp, etc. The Auxiliary serviceseducation officer laid on educational program forthose who wished it. There were classes explain-ing the Canadian rehabilitation program. Therewere always billets to be cleaned. The Auxiliaryservice officer took over the local theatre, wherehe had movies every evening.

Before the theatre was available, the AuxiliaryService officer had set up in a tent. The first daythat he was in the area he had gotten a new lot ofrecords. He was trying them out on his recordplayer. He had put on a stack of records and wascarrying on with his work, He noticed a farmerstanding listening to the music. He stood bareheaded and tears were streaming down his face.The music was the Dutch National Anthem. Afterthe years of the privations and indignities of Oc-cupation, the old man was overjoyed to hear hisNational Anthem being played by a Canadian.

The Dutch Queen’s home was just five milesaway. Utrecht was close at hand. Amsterdam andRotterdam were relatively close. It was a good lo-cation and neighborhood; we met many fine peo-ple and made many friends.

The Burgomaster of Amsterdam gave a receptionhonouring the liberation of Holland, It was a for-mal affair held in the evening. The women madea striking and beautiful picture in their pre war


finery. War time rations, I was told, had causedadult Dutch women to lose an average of threepounds in weight. But the men were laughable, Iguess that this was the first time since the Occu-pation that they had put on their formal clothes.Almost every suit literally flapped, some wereridiculous. The great paunches that they hadbeen designed to cover, had disappeared.

Food in the period of Occupations had become aserious matter. In many cases the people were re-duced to eating the bulbs of their famous flowers.One lady assured me that the rare varieties didnot taste any better than the ordinary. The adultshad made a conscious effort to give their childrenthe best diet possible. But that had not really beenadequate. However at the first opportunity, afterthe end of the Occupation, the Dutch had set upan elaborate distribution system to give everychild the foods and vitamins most urgentlyneeded. It seemed that there was a child clinic atevery street corner, that was in sharp contrast towhat I had seen in Italy.

Incidentally it is my opinion that the emaciatedcondition of the Dutch male left the Dutchwomen sexually starved. As a result, I believethat there was a lowering of standards of con-duct.

At this reception, in Amsterdam, I made the ac-quaintance of a family in Amsterdam which Iadopted for my stay in Holland. Their daughterguided my sightseeing and was my partner atmost of the mixed functions that I attended.

I could understand the importance of food. I amsure that I did not fully comprehend the love ofthe Dutch for art. All of the important picturesand works of art had been hidden in storagethroughout the war. While we were there theywere brought out and put on display. We at-tended many exhibitions and the galleries werealways crowded.

There was a holiday declared to celebrate the Lib-eration. We went into Amsterdam to watch theparade of floats. It was the biggest of its kind thatI had ever seen.

The Canadian Army held a sports day in the racetrack at Hilversum. It was a good set-up with adirt track and grandstands. In a central box, inthe stand, was a large gathering of notables of thearmy. Prince Bernhardt was there, General Cr-erar, General Dempsey and a third general com-manding an army whose name I cannot recall, aswell as lesser fry. Most of us had cameras but hes-itated to disturb such notables. Brig. Wilkinscame over to our group and pointed out the rareopportunity that was presented. Not often onegot three Army commanders together withPrince Bernhardt. I took the hint and went out infront of the royal box with my camera just like, Ithought a brazen newsman would do. GeneralCrerar was properly oblivious. But GeneralDempsey was very disturbed. I caught his eye. Itsaid, “For God’s sake don’t be so childish. Re-member that we are all in uniform.” I agreedwith him completely.

We had a dance for the Battalion in the Zoologi-cal Gardens in Rotterdam. There they had aQuonset type building that was made of steelframework covered with glass. It was a hugebuilding and at that time had very little in it.About one third way down the length of thebuilding was a stage large enough for a normaldance floor. For our dance they set up anothercircular floor in the main body of the building.This was surrounded with tables and chairs, pot-ted palms, etc. They had kitchens and distribu-tion facilities in the building to handle hugecrowds. We gave them canned milk and theymade ice cream for everybody at the dance. Thedance was a tremendous success.

The officer’s mess was in a small roadside inn.Sleeping quarters were in nearby houses. This


inn had one billiard table and a bar. And therewas a very nice dining room and kitchen. Theowner had a large family and was in a bad wayfor food. In his china cabinet he had a completeset of crystal tableware for twelve which he saidwas two hundred years old. There were all sortsof glasses, side plates, finger bowls, etc. One day,in all seriousness, he made me a proposition. Forso much food I could have the complete set. I didmy best but I could not persuade him that it wasimpossible for me to give orders to the RQM tohand over food to a Dutchman and especially soon a deal like that. Later P.J. Kaag gave me a setfor six. Gordon Young bought a set for twelve forme in Belgium.

Across the road were two larger inns. One wetook over and fixed up as a canteen for the men.In the other we held officers mess dances everytwo weeks. One such dance was especially elabo-rate. We entertained all the local big wigs. Wewent to great pains to provide good food anddrink. Good music was relatively easy to arrange.It turned out that that dance was on the night ofVJ day. It was a great success. Mountains of fooddisappeared. The Dutch guests literally gasped attheir first look at our supper table.

One amusing incident that night. I made it myjob to see that all of our guests were being lookedafter. One healthy, well fed looking Dutchman, ofabout twenty-five years of age, continued to sit ata table all by himself, almost oblivious of theworld. He was Baron somebody. I did my best toget him interested in something or somebody buteverybody and everything seemed to be too in-consequential for him. I was dancing with aDutch girl and I made a remark that I thoughtthat “dopey was a bit conceited,” Quickly shespoke up: “Yes I know that he is. He is mycousin.”

My Amsterdam girl friend explained to me thatclass consciousness was a very real characteristic

of the Dutch, She told a story that when a womenwalks down the street a Canadian whistles (thiswas a new part of the story); an Englishmanwants to know who she married; an Americanwants to know how much money her husbandhas; and a Dutchman wants to know who shewas before she married.

Whenever we were in need of extra rum weturned to the R22R. It seems that during the “Ar-dennes push” the German Army captured aBritish Army dump of SRD rum. The Germansdidn’t like rum. However, with true Teutonic effi-ciency, they kept every bottle properly accountedfor. The “dump” was liberated by the R22R. TheR22R quite correctly turned the clump of rumback to the British Army. However they alwayshad a bit to spare.

One Saturday evening the 2 Canadian InfantryBrigade officers mess held a party which I at-tended. They had rum punch on the sideboard. Ishould have known better but once again I mar-veled at how little effect the rum had on me.After an evening of dancing they served supper.Champagne was the drink with supper. Again noeffect. When we left the party we had had a won-derful evening but I was very sober. I almost feltvirtuous.

The next morning, at 0900 hours, we had a bigBattalion church parade. I got out of bed just intime to have a cup of coffee in the mess and thengo on parade. The parade went off well. We werein the church singing a hymn. We were in thefront pew under the baleful eye of the localDutch minister. I stood between Drayton and StuMacDonald, All at once the world started toheave. I whispered to Stu: “Get me out of here.”Stu lead me forward around the pulpit into theminister’s robing room. I passed out completely.The minister was not very happy. Neither was I.

One day I went to the old burgomaster and of-


fered the services of our boys to the farmers toharvest their crops. It was a bit early and actuallywe moved before the harvest began. Howeverthe burgomaster expressed the gratitude of hiscountrymen for our offer. “You know our ownboys would not do that.”

I think that that was one of the most tragic conse-quences of the Occupation. As soon as a boy wasfourteen the Germans drafted him into laboursquads. So the resisting Dutch hid their boys be-fore they came of age. All sorts of ruses wereadopted. In an apartment block in Amsterdam Iwas shown a couple of floor boards that had beencarefully and cleverly cut so that they were notnoticeable. When the Gestapo came around theboy was hidden between the floor joists. All ofthe rest of the time he had to live furtively. Thiswent on all over Holland, in both rural and urbandistricts. For nearly five years that age group ofboys grew with very little schooling, no recre-ation, no job to attend, in fact no disciplineswhatever. The vitamins could be supplied toerase much of the effects of malnutrition. It willbe very difficult to erase the mental effects ofsuch an unnatural life.

We arranged a holiday for the neighborhoodschool children on August 1. Our originalthoughts were in terms of Western CanadianSchools. We thought that we would entertain allof the public schools children that were close tous. We thought that we could handle five hun-dred. I went to see the Burgomaster to get a pre-liminary survey the situation. I explained ourproposal. The Burgomaster spoke up: “This is avery kind gesture on your part but I am afraidthat you underestimate our accomplishments.”Restricting the invitation to the children of theeight, nine and ten year old age groups of thefour schools in whose area our Battalion was bil-leted, the total came to six hundred and fifty.

The auxiliary service officer got children’s car-

toon films to show in our theatre. We set up amarquee and got a local circus to perform. Wearranged some races. We got food, drink andcandy for six hundred and fifty kids.

We asked Baroness Van Boetzelaer, Baroness Vande Borch, Mrs. Doude Van Troostwyk, Mrs. HooftGraafland and Mrs. Steengrocht Van Oostcapelleto be patronesses. The day before we showedthem around and explained what we proposed.Then we served them and the principals of theschools, tea.

Our boys picked up the children at their schoolswith three ton trucks. That was an adventure forboth. First the circus performed. Then we hadraces. The outstanding event was an officers ob-stacle race. On the return trip each officer had tocarry a Dutch child. Stu McDonald won, withDrayton second.

Because our theatre would only hold 350, thechildren were divided. One half to the show, one-half to the eats. Then the alternate. Everyone wastrucked back to school. Everyone was happy -our boys more than anyone.

To repay some of our social occasions Draytonand I were invited to several private dinner par-ties. In almost every case it was the first formalentertaining that the hostess had done since thewar. Their pre war formal gowns were beautiful.A butler and maid served. China, silverware andcrystal had all been dug out of their wartime hid-ing places. Valiant efforts were made to procurefood, sometimes two women would pool theirfood. It was delectably prepared. They werememorable evenings for everyone.

Everett Bates and I shared a room. He had beenslated to go home on rotational leave. For somereason he did not go. So now he had to wait to gohome with the Battalion. I think that he was themost homesick person that I have ever seen.


One afternoon I visited a farm where the goodwife showed me how they made cheese. Thewater pump was in the centre of the courtyardand about one hundred feet from her dairy. Thecurds were washed many times and every bit ofthe water had to be carried from the pump. Thatwas the way that it had always been done. Thefarmer showed me his new horse. The Germanshad taken all of their horses. A lot of horses hadbeen brought back from Germany the previousweek and he had gotten one out of them. Theywere supposed to get as many horses of the sameage as those that had been taken away. Hewanted me to tell him how old this horse was. Ididn’t attempt it though I did look into its’mouth.

One Sunday we visited the island of Markham.The locals were dressed in their traditional garb. Igot talking to one old lady. Her dialect was a mix-ture of German and English so that with somesign language I could converse with her. She hadlong full skirts. It was a very hot day. She showedme that underneath her dress she wore a petti-coat made of thick blanket cloth. She explained tome “Goot rheumatics,” Doctors have told me lit-tle that was better advice.

The situation regarding money was most pecu-liar. When I had arrived in de Bilt, as per instruc-tions, I did not carry any money. I got SandyCampbell to cash a five pound cheque for me. Itseemed that I just turned around and it was gone.I got a second five pounds. As I was cashing mythird pound cheque, I said: “Sandy I don’t under-stand how our boys can carry on in this country. Ican’t afford to spend money like this.”

“Only Zombies cash cheques.” That was it. Themoney that everyone was spending so freelycame from cigarettes. Each man overseas was en-titled to buy from the Canadian tobacco compa-nies, seven hundred and fifty cigarettes permonth at a cheap rate. In addition many of our

boys had friends back home who sent them ciga-rettes. Right after the Liberation cigarettes sold,on the black market, at fantastic prices, By thetime that I arrived the price had settled to asteady one guilder per cigarette. At the peggedrate of exchange that was forty cents for one ciga-rette, Nault became my paymaster.

This craving for cigarettes was something thatjust couldn’t be understood. People had gonewithout good tobacco for a long time. They werewilling to give anything for a smoke. In any ofour dealings with the civilians, regardless of theprofession or vocation of the person, they did notwant their own money. They wanted cigarettes.Cigarettes were a medium of exchange that wasaccepted everywhere. Their own money was not,This created great hardship. Our landlady had alittle factory on her estate that made all sorts ofwood screws. She paid her men who ran the fac-tory three guilder per day. After the Liberationthat meant nothing. That was a most impressivelesson in the evils of inflation, it is difficult toimagine the chaos that a lack of confidence incurrency can cause.


Chapter 48: Leave

Drayton and I drove down the Rhine to Mainzand over to Frankfurt, Such a story book country.The Rhine was beautiful with its gingerbread cas-tles. The bomb damage was the most extensivethat I had seen. Cassino was worse but it was notvery large. In Germany huge cities were devas-tated. Most everywhere we met sullen glances.We spent one night in the billets of a FrenchArmy outpost. I never did understand the setupas we never saw any officers, There were aboutforty men living there together, What amused mewas when they bade each other good night.There were formal handshakes all around asthough they did not expect to meet again forsome time. As we said good night we asked whattime was breakfast. My high school French hasthe word for breakfast as “café.” They gave us anhour and one private said “cafe” at the same timemade a circle with thumb and finger and made aclucking noise with his lips. I went to bed expect-ing a breakfast that was really something. Nextmorning we had only black coffee, There was abox of American Army biscuits on the table. I wasthe only one to eat any.

One weekend I drove up to Oldenburg to see mybrother with the Occupational Force. We droveon to the naval base at Wilhelmshaven. There wewere given a Royal Navy launch in which to tourthe harbour. We flew the Union Jack. The duty of-ficer on every one of those German ships in theharbour saluted as we sailed by. There weretremendous naval installations there.

I had reached Oldenburg just after sunset the sunset in that clear sky we had a glorious sunsetsuch as we normally get back in Western Canada.I was homesick.

Our stay in Holland had been definitely limited.According to the way the leave roster was work-ing Rostand, Lahaie and I would not get to see

Paris. We took the initiative. We got permissionto be away from the Battalion for three days.Without a leave pass, with no authority to con-vert currency, with no permission to take space orfood in the leave hotels, Ross and I set out forParis. We drove as quickly as we could and didvery little sightseeing on the way. We got intoParis at about 1700 hours.

The Knights of Columbus had an office in Pariswhere one could arrange to get guides and infor-mation. Rostand’s greatest worry was lest weshould see Paris in the company of an uglywoman. We had no money, no food or lodging orpermission to be in Paris. First things come first.We drove straight to the K. of C. office. There wasa middle aged Frenchwoman on duty there. Ros-tand explained our need of a guide, not just anyguide, she must be a beautiful guide. With astraight face and much sympathy the French-woman assured us that we would be well caredfor. She gave us an address where we would findtwo girls next morning at 1000 hours.

Our next thoughts were of food. The BritishArmy had an officers restaurant in Paris. We atethere. While we were eating a War correspondentfrom Montreal, Dupuis, whom Rostand hadknown before the war, came in. He told us wherewe could get some French money. After that wewere away. The British Army leave hotel gave usa room. We drove up to a British Army petroldump and without question our jeep was filled.

While at this petrol dump a Russian jeep droveup. The Russian officer went into the office. Thedriver stood guard over his vehicle with his submachine gun at the alert. It was different to anyweapon that I had seen. I walked over and triedto talk with him. He couldn’t understand. Thenby sign language I tried to convey that I wantedto examine his gun. I reached for it. He pointedthe gun at me with his finger on the trigger. Myinterest suddenly waned.


Our guides were beautiful. They were modest,well informed and sensible Parisian girls. Theyknew Paris well and made an excellent job ofplanning our brief visit. We saw all of the impor-tant places in and around Paris and in sequenceso that there was no waste time. They told uswhat souvenirs we could buy and the best placesto get them. Paris was very much as I had ex-pected to see her. Versailles was much moregrand and ornate. We were distinctly shocked atthe nightclub. For some reason we did not go toFolies Bergeres. Our guide assured us that theChantffly nightclub was as good. Even with ourknowledgeable guides we were charged twoprices for bad champagne. The place wasjammed full of people. Our table was beside thestage and the chorus line literally danced over us.They had enormous bare breasts. Our guides as-sured us that most had been inflated. The faceson most of the girls of the chorus line, thoughpretty, were faces of savages. Rostand spoke up“Gee whiz don’t let one of those girls get mealone”


Chapter 49: England Again

Our Battalion moved to England where westayed, in the Aldershot area, awaiting our ship.While there we held a formal parade on whichwe were inspected by Col. Calder and Lt. Col.Bradbrooke. We boarded the Nieuev Amsterdamfor a grand trip to Halifax.

We were in England about two weeks awaitingour ship. Generous leave was arranged for every-one. The Auxiliary Services helped to pass thetime. One event that they arranged was a wrest-ling match. A ring was set up on the paradesquare and the match was held in the afternoon.My experience with professional wrestling waslimited to watching two homesteaders while Iwas a child. It was a gentlemanly affair.

But this was different. Of course there was a goodguy and a bad guy. The bad guy threw the refereeout of the ring and did all sorts of evil things. Iwas all set to stop the match when someone cau-tioned me.

During my six years in uniform I had increasedin weight by some thirty pounds. I knew that Iwas going to need a complete new outfit of civil-ian clothes. This was the best opportunity that Iwould ever have to get a well tailored suit. So Idropped into Conway Williams, our military tai-lor, and ordered two suits of clothes, A date wasset for the fitting.

I had a cousin in the CWAC’s who worked inCMHQ in London. She and I were having lunchtogether the day of the fitting. I asked her tocome along to give her opinion of the new suits. Imisjudged my tailor, As soon as he saw thewoman with me he froze, The suits were notready. I would have to come back again. Obvi-ously he was not countenancing the opinion ofanyone else of his handicraft.

One of the suits was not finished when we leftEngland. Some weeks after I got home, inCanada, I got a card from the Customs port ofEntry in Moose Jaw. If I remitted a cheque tocover the import duty to the amount of twentyfive per cent of the value of the suit, they wouldgive me possession of my London tailored suit.This duty was to protect our Canadian workmenfrom the unfair competition of the low standardof living enjoyed by my London tailor. Were itnot so tragic in its consequences that was a realjoke.

During our brief stay in England I visited asmany of our old haunts as I could to say goodbye to dear friends. We had all changed a bit. Ihad seen a great deal of actual fighting. They hadexperienced the V bombs. I think that my experi-ences had been the less harrowing. No one canever know the strain of living with a threat of anexplosion that could wipe out your neighbor-hood and that so often did.

At Kingswood I met the young husband who hadspent most of the war in North Africa. I thoughtthat his opinion of the Americans was grossly un-fair. Only the circumstances of our meeting pre-vented a verbal clash. At Etchingham I toldCommodore and Mrs. McCrae about how fool-ishly Dutch people prized cigarettes and avoidedtheir own currency. Mrs. McCrae spoke up: "Andwho would be so greedy as to charge those poorunfortunate people such exorbitant prices for cig-arettes?”

I visited my sister-in-law and her parents in Glas-gow. I was in Glasgow on a Saturday night. Youhave to experience that, to know what it means.The streets were full of well lubricated youngpeople singing at the top of their voices.

Dunbar took me to a soccer football me. I do notrecall who was partying. It was the crowd thatimpressed me. They told me that ninety-two


thousand people were watching that game.Trains and double deck buses got everyone awaywithin a half an hour of the end of the game.

On my last free day in England I had arranged tospend the evening with my cousin Ethel. It wasan emotional time for me. The prairie boy hadlearned to love London. It was much too exciting,too complex, too sophisticated to ever becomehome. It was the closing of another chapter in thebook of life. I was bidding a fond farewell to aseparate way of life.

The dinner we had was poor food indifferentlyserved. I do not remember what theatre that weattended, but it was a variety show. Jill Mannerswas starring in it. We had good seats and, duringher first number, Jill recognized me. The nexttime she came on stage she wore the silverbrooch that we had given her.

What I remember most distinctly was the com-munity singing lead by a pert young thingdressed in a top hat, black coat and tights,twirling a cane. It was like the liturgy of a churchservice. The words and the music were the samethat one had repeated often. But a change of cir-cumstances gave a new meaning. “When thelights come on again all over the world,”and“The White Cliffs of Dover.” It was as if that littlegirl had become a priest leading a service. Asusual, the audience sang with gusto. But the mes-sage was different.

The audience voiced joy at the end of the war;they voiced satisfaction at the victory; theyvoiced weariness; they voiced sadness for theloss of loved ones; they voice impatience becauseof the restraints under which they still lived; theyvoiced a stupefying reluctance to accept the factthat the Britain that they loved could never be thesame. At the time of Dunkirk she had stoodalone. The whole world would benefit from thevictory. The sacrifices had not been equal.

After bidding Ethel good night at her quarters, Iwas still too restless to go to bed. It was mid-night. I remembered that they served coffee atmidnight in the lounge of the Regent Palace.Maybe I would meet someone there. Almost thefirst person that I saw in the lounge was Janice.She was with a Polish LAC and was a bit cha-grined. I had first met her early in 1940 in thecompany of Jerry. Jerry was a devoted familyman. Janice was a “call girl”.

I hesitate to call her a prostitute. She was too so-phisticated, too sensible. Whether she ever be-came Jerry’s mistress I do not know. Certainlywhen I first met her their relationship was pla-tonic. I do not know how they met but they spentmany happy hours together.

This night in the lounge of the Regent Palace, Jan-ice was quite realistic about her future. She wasnot bitter. She loved Jerry, she loved his childrenand his wife, though she had never seen them.She was grateful for the opportunity that she hadhad to share a bit of Jerry’s life. I was aware that Iwas in the presence of something that was holy. Idid not quite know how to conduct myself. So Ileft Janice with her Polish LAC. I wonder whatthe senior Protestant Chaplain would have done?

Potts came aboard our ship, at Halifax, to greetus. Save for his uniform he had not changed a bit.Most of those who had come to us from EasternCanada dropped off enroute. Rostand made thetrip to Saskatoon. Only those who witnessed hisreunion with his parents and fiancee on the sta-tion platform in Montreal, can know the intensityof his determination to learn about WesternCanada when he rode on to Saskatoon with us.

Wes Winters joined us enroute with the details ofthe plans of the reception committee in Saska-toon. All arrangements were splendid with thesole exception that there was not a dance or partyfor the other ranks. The Saskatonians did not


want to take the responsibility of preservingorder and a proper atmosphere at such an event.I promised to personally attend the other ranksdance and gave everyone assurance that allwould go well. It did. Saskatoon gave us a rous-ing and sincere “Welcome Home.” It was a greatday on 3rd October, 1945.

We arrived by train in the morning. All friendsand relatives were in the Stadium at the Exhibi-tion grounds. We marched into the Stadium andbroke off. In the afternoon we had a formal“March Past” at the Kiwanis bandstand near theBessborough Hotel. Drayton and Embury tookthe salute. It was a rather cramped spot to paradea Battalion. After the “March Past” I “fell out” theofficers and handed the parade over to R.S.M.Ferris for dismissal. I was the last officer to give acommand to the Battalion on parade.

Some weeks elapsed before everything waswound up. We tried to publish a story of the Bat-talion’s activities overseas together with an Hon-our Roll.

There was a considerable amount of money thathad accumulated in the Regimental Funds dur-ing our stay in England. There were rather strin-gent regulations concerning their expenditure.We got the Honour Roll printed in England andpaid for out of Regiment Funds. We were unableto get the Story compiled in England. In Canadawe were not allowed to use the Regiment's.Funds.

.In Dec. 1945, I was “demobilized” I had servedsix years, two months and ten days. The war hadbeen a tremendous experience. It was a biggerslice out of my life than I realized. It had been avery profound and thorough education. I recalledthe words that Dean C.J. McKenzie had ad-dressed to the officers of the Battalion, at a formalluncheon held in Saskatoon back in 1939. Hesaid: “War is a terrible thing. Man must find a

way to avoid it. But I would not have missed tak-ing my part in the First World War for anything.”

I can truthfully say the same about my part in theSecond World War.


Appendix 1: Citations

Citation for the MBEMITCHELL, Howard Clifton, Major - Member,Order of the British Empire Infantry (1st Battal-ion, Saskatoon Light Infantry) - awarded as perCanada Gazette dated 15 December 1945 andCAROl6276 dated 18 December 1945.

Major Mitchell has commanded a machine guncompany since the reorganization of the Saska-toon Light Infantry (Machine Gun) in June 1944and since that time his work has been character-ized by his personal gallantry and disregard forhis own safety.

During the advance beyond the Gothic Line inthe vicinity of Cattolica and Riccione while insupport of 1 Canadian Infantry Brigade, MajorMitchell was a constant inspiration to the juniorofficers and men under his command by his con-tempt for danger in almost continuous forwardreconnaissances.

His example and determination gave such impe-tus to his company that their very close and ac-tive machine gun support materially contributedto keeping up the momentum of the advance. On3 September 1944 at the River Fossa, MajorMitchell personally led his company over a tem-porary bridge under extremely heavy and sus-tained enemy fire. Immediately after thecompany had crossed, the bridge was destroyedand could not be replaced for 24 hours.

This intrepid action made possible the only sup-port the infantry in the bridgehead had duringthat critical period. Throughout these actionsMajor Mitchell, when not on reconnaissance,manned forward observation posts, often direct-ing fire himself

The will to get at the enemy which his ever-gal-lant actions inspired in his men was largely re-sponsible for the efficient support rendered byhis company to the forward infantry elements.During the period his unit was in Northwest Eu-rope, Major Mitchell continued to display thesame fine leadership and courage that he hadshown in Italy.

Citation for the Military Cross,3rd Class

MITCHELL, Howard Clifton, Major - MilitaryCross, 3rd Class (Greece) Infantry (SaskatoonLight Infantry [Machine Gun)) - awarded as perCanada Gazette dated 17 January 1948. Direc-torate of History and Heritage has a document(96/47 folio 123) which gives the above notedunit. This document (which bears no date) issigned by a Colonel Lamaris ("Chief of Staff,) andColonel Th. Tsakalotos ("Officer Commander, 3rdGreek Mountain Brigade'').

Because, as Officer Commanding of the MachineGun Company attached to the Brigade, he hasshown wonderful courage and coolness, and in-spired his company during the successful anddifficult battle of the Brigade that started on the9th September [1944].

Note: These citations were provided through theoffice of Ian Wilson National Archivist forCanada.


Major H.C. Mitchell, MBE - SCAA Projects

Documents

Transcript of Major H.C. Mitchell, MBE - SCAA Projects