FOR GRANDAD - PART 3

My Grandad was asked to contribute to a book which was being written by soldiers about their wartime experiences. Unfortunately, my Grandad passed away before his story could be published. I would like to share some of the first draft he wrote with you here. The writing is in long hand and is difficult to read at times but I will do my best Grandad. The previous entries were posted a few weeks ago.



I saw one private near me, I can't remember his name but I'll always remember him getting up saying to me, "Bugger this, I'm going to go and have a bash.". I never saw him again, but he was very courageous, as were many others. Soon after this I was hit by shrapnel from the explosion of a shell from the tank, it set off a phosphorus grenade I had in my pouch, my hand was hit and I was in great pain. I was laid in a stretcher and my wounds were dressed by a medic. I lay in the stretcher for a while and later was dragged away towards a large house. We were still under fire and I remember the medic crawling over to me and giving me words of comfort, and telling me not to worry, I would soon be "home", whether he meant heaven or England, I don't know, but he was very brave and helped a lot at the time. I was given morphine and taken into a cellar of a house and stayed there all night.

Next day began a nightmare journey back to the beach. I was strapped on the front of a jeep and just after I had been secured, shells began to fall all around us, but none hit us and after a few days of being hidden at night in cellars and going by day towards the beach, I was taken to a hospital ship by a tank landing craft and then we set sail for England. We hadn't been sailing for long when I heard machine guns and shellfire, a sailor came to where we laid, (still on stretchers) and began tying lifebelts to us saying that we were being attacked by German E boats and they would probably have to throw us into the sea!! I thought to myself, after all what I had gone through and survived so far, what a way to go. But our own torpedo boats came and drove the enemy away and I finally landed in England. I went to a hospital and was told that I had gangrene in both hands and I had to have penicillin injections every 3 hours for a period of 7 days. I remained in hospital for 5 months, losing a finger and loss of mobility of part of my left hand and burns in my right hand and wrist.

Looking back, I realise how lucky I was to survive, as when I was hit, I had a high explosive grenade left in my equipment which never went off. I owe my life to the men who took me back to the beach and I was proud to be a member of the 6th Airborne Division, I lost many friends who were killed and I hope to go back to Normandy. I never rejoined my unit after coming out of hospital, I was sent to a non combat unit. I have never met any of the survivors and I do not know if there were many who came back, so a visit to the cemetery will be a sad experience for me.

I hope that what I have remembered will be of use and I would like to keep in touch with you and buy a copy of the book when it is finished...