One Young Man Goes Looking For Cows And enlist the help of some Germans

J. D. Vervoorn and the Dutch Resistance

I was very privileged to have met and personally thank Professor J.D Vervoorn (Hans) and he has read; in most part what I have written here. I was told that he was surprised that I remembered or knew about him, and was amused that he had four pages to himself. I hope to soon go to Oosterbeek and pay my deepest respects to all.

    

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Sitting in the summer sun eating Mr Springs peas while reading, I was aware that I could get caught. Although I knew his daily routine, through the summer months they were a little unpredictable. I knew, he knew I ate his peas and have no idea why he tolerated me so, but he did. Hidden well beneath an old man’s grumpiness, was a whole spectrum of humour and understanding, I am sure he planted more peas near my side of the hedge.

          

I was suddenly was aware of his presence; it was too late to make a dash for it. On the back of his house was a big rain butt on a brick and slab plinth, perched upon it was the man himself. I felt a little guilty watching him, studying his face as I did but I knew that if I moved it would break the trance he was in and this would be a bad thing. So I sat there and in those moments I witnessed the legacy that war bestows on the ones that survive.

          

On his taught cheek bones his muscles flexed and his unseeing eyes of the here and now were in the memories of the past. I have no idea why I thought this as a child, but somehow, deep down I know this to be true. For each year I saw the same expression and I recall it was in those summer months of reflection that his stories flowed at their best. This face has stayed with me not haunting exactly but ever present in my consciousness. In my time of need and strength I pull this face to my mind’s eye to strengthen and to remember his teaching.

          

Shortly after the pea-pod moment I had walked over to say hello as I often did, I remember I was in my teens and wanted to get away quickly but didn’t want to appear rude so entered into a conversation.

           

That taught face took over the normal congenial face that I was used to seeing. I knew that I couldn’t ask questions as this would break that trance state, and he would abruptly finish the conversation. I had asked him once to write down his accounts of the war but he told me that it was quite enough to have lived and survived it. I had no right to ask more from a man that had seen and felt what he had. So I would intently cling on to every word to keep, while searching his face for meaning.

He started by telling me how astonished he was over the resilience of the Dutch people. How their country had been bombarded. I held in my mind that he was talking about operation ‘Market Garden’ the drop over Arnhem of the allied troops. I had seen the pictures. He recounted how men were shot from the skies as they parachuted down and inadequate gliders stumbled and stalled to the ground. Men burning while trying to save others, each had imprinted how futile war was on him. 

           

I knew Mr Spring was dropped off un-ceremonially at Arnhem. Caught by some hot shrapnel his glider had caught fire. The pilot hit an over head cable to slow down the glider. This man was on fire and knew he was dying. Having made sure all his men jumped as safely as he could, he then went to the cockpit where the American pilots were trying to control the aircraft while burning. He was ordered to jump out and join his men. 

           

After bailing out and before he rounded his men up he searched for one of his comrades, he had noticed that his parachute had caught alight. Having dropped 200 ft with no parachute to speak of, he found this man in a very bad way and so he gave him morphine to ease the man’s passing. His name was Alfred Penwill and was a Norfolk lad who was expecting his first child.

           

It would have taken Mr Spring very little time to assess the situation on the ground, he, by now had enough experience to know that - weather, communication difficulties, and the amount of Germans on the ground meant he would be lucky if he or any of his men would survive that day. 

           

Rounding up his men they found the glider and recovered both pilot’s; the co pilot had broken both legs and wrists but was still alive. by this time the Dutch resistance were already on the scene, Mr Spring was ready to shoot not knowing whether they were friend or foe and this is where he met Hans for the first time as Hans whistled the national Anthem to indicate that they were freinds. Hans he said was very important boy to his men, as he spoke very good English. He showed me a paper telling me a few of these facts. In those days we had no photo copiers so I could not keep a copy, it is with my memory checking what I know with what others have written on the internet that I’m able substantiate events. After he folded the paper and put it away he continued, with one of the greatest escapes I have ever heard.

           

He set the scene of five or six men made up from the Dutch resistance and his regiment going for a bike ride in the Dutch countryside. He was dressed in civi clothes of that region and played the part of a deaf dumb Dutchman. As he couldn’t speak the language nor understand it, the part suited him he would tell me, with that humours twinkle. When they came across ‘a few Germans out on patrol’ he would say. It was the way he said this that always got me hooked, and on less stressed days we would always laugh at that throw away comment. But this day as I looked into those globes of that other world, I saw an intensity that gave away the true tension of the situation. He would tell how little details made all the difference like; remembering that you had to get on and off the bike the opposite way to what you were used to. These small details would arouse curiosity and suspicion of the soldiers who were on high alert. 

           

At some point Mr. Spring felt that things were getting tricky so he pulled the pin out of a hand grenade that he held it in his pocket; I’m not sure how much he had thought this through. He would say it was ‘fool hardy’ with a glint in his eye that would forever perplex me. 

           

Hans and Harri Tomason of the Dutch resistance had worked their magic and talked the soldiers into letting them pass. A way down the road and out of earshot Mr. Spring asked for some advice on what to do. He would say to me ‘It takes fifteen pounds of pressure to hold the leaver down, you know’ and I would think and only seconds for it to explode. His hand was getting tired and cramp had set in. Hans commented that the soldiers didn’t know how close they were to being killed and suggested that Mr Spring lob it in the dyke.

           

Now this is where my version of the events take a slightly different path. As I am under the impression that they caught some fish that day but as no one else reports this in their telling I may have got it wrong. You see Mr Spring liked to throw a humorous twist to things. Now many years have passed and I’m not sure if this particular twist is in my imagination. Perhaps, what he meant was that they should have caught some fish. A spot of poaching under the noses of the Germans and to have made good use of the limited amount of hand grenades they had, would have made it worthwhile in his opinion. But it was how he told me how they ate the fish and the family who were looking after the co-pilot were grateful and the fact so many of my remembered stories have been proven facts, that I think this could be true and highly likely. 

           

One thing that has puzzled me through the years was why did they take the risk in the first place? Even more so when I found out later that the Germans were bombarding anything that moved or that the allied forces could hide behind, leaving Oosterbeek resembling a pile of matchsticks. All Mr Spring and his comrades had, were their bren machine guns and grenades, no room in their backpack for a tank or two. It was for a funeral or funerals under the watchful eyes of the German soldiers. There you have it, humanity in adversity with humour showing us the light. Thanks to Hans and the Dutch resistance Albert was able to attend the funeral of Alfred Penwill; the father to be, radio operator Hollis and pilot Spurrier who had gallantly fought to save his passengers and land as safely as possible.

           

He tried to re-join his platoon and was in some skirmishes around Opheasden, Kesteren and Dodeward but on this point I could never get him to open up and talk.

           

Now after a little banter about the fish there came another story that he only ever told me once. It was short and simply told. The Germans were hot on their tail and a few of the men could not swim or not that well at any rate. Good men that would rather have been drowned than be caught by the Gestapo. His concentrated face held a meaning behind this story that I can only guess at. With five or more men clinging to him he lost one. This man had saved his life and his regret in the telling of this made me numb and still does.

Piecing together accounts off Wikipedia, my dad (Mike Alderman) and Phillip (Mr Springs youngest son) version, gives some background to these events. They were only days apart. Mr Spring was dropped on 18th September 1944 and due to bad weather a lot of the backup and equipment never made it. The 10th Battalion were fragmented and communication was poor. They were ordered to get to Oosterbeek and were to hold their positions and wait for reinforcements. The Germans unleashed a self-propelled gun up and down the battalions, shooting high explosives shells into any building, followed by infantry fighting at close quarters forcing the allies out of their defensive positions. Small isolated units managed to hold until the 22nd September for the Pathfinders 21st independent Parachute Company and the 1st Polish Parachute Brigade to drop down. Although they drew off some of the Germans attention, they still had 100 or so artillery guns firing onto their positions. They were then ordered to with draw. The last few men were evacuated over the nights of the 25th and 26th of September 1944. Out of 582 men that were dropped from this regiment 404 were taken as prisoners, many of which were injured, some critical, 92 were killed and 96 were evacuated. Due to this the 10th Battalion was disbanded. 

           

Without the Dutch resistance the numbers would have been much worse and Mr Spring became reliant on that one young Dutchman who was resourceful, determined and probably most importantly of all had a good sound sense of humanity and humour. This young man took that swim with Mr Spring and it was the last time they saw each other for many years, although they did keep in touch from time to time. It was across the River Waal that was as big as the river Rhine. Searchlights were looking for anything that moved and after a cup of tea Hans swam back….. Hold that thought, Yep, he swam back over the river, where agitated Germans were shooting anything that moved in the dark!

           

When he reached the other side he laid low until the morning and when the Germans caught him he explained that he was a farmer’s boy who had lost his COWS! And that the farmer would be very cross with him. So there they were, German SAS soldiers’, one young medical student who had just helped the allied forces to escape, looking for non-existing cows together. 

           

Whenever Hans name cropped up Mr Spring would marvel at the warmth that the Dutch people showed him. Looking at the few pictures I found on the internet I have begun to understand his reasoning behind this more. In his opinion whenever he turned up it was bad news but for the civilians of this area in particular, it was catastrophic.        

           

It was Hans’s humanity and humour that touched Mr Spring and through the years and the telling of his stories, Hans and the Dutch people have dwelt through my thoughts, shining a light on my path. I would like to convey my deepest and heartfelt thanks.

           

Having learnt that his brother Albert had made it back from Arnham and not seeing him at all from 1941 John paid Mr Spring a visit just outside Grantham. John Wrote “In Albert’s corner hanging up behind a blanket were numerous rabbits, pheasants, and bundles of snares. On top of the black coke-fired stove was a Dixie full of rabbit stew. I only had to close my eyes and I was back in the humble cottage at Winwick hill. I thought, good God, he will never change. Talking to his comrades I gathered that my brother was held in very high esteem because with the help of the wartime Dutch Resistance he had been mainly responsible for their escape from the enemy-occupied Holland, but one of his fellow men told me, ‘It’s terrible being back; I never know when I am going to get into one of his bloody snares.’ I can just see the amusement on Mr Springs face as he read his brothers words.       

           

Albert wrote to Penwills family to let them know what had happened to him and made a point of going to his grave whenever he could and laid flowers there, Phil and Danny now carries on that tradition.

           

In Oosterbeek it was estimated 10,000 people attended 65^th commemorative service of the battle. The Dutch children are told of how it was and flowers have always been laid for the men who fought courageously and yet were defeated. The Dutch suffered many hardships after the Allied Forces left. So yet again I can see Mr Spring reluctance to say too much about it all. But like the Dutch people I think this event in History should be noted. Because of these men women and children, who at great personal cost both physically and mentally, with so many paying the ultimate price, we can without tyrant or oppressors stamp our feet in indignation and oust the government!

Tina Rodwell © All rights reserved.

The Unsung Heros Of Arnham and one mans parth that took him there.

On the 6^th May 1916 Edith May Spring gave birth to one of the many unsung heroes of the Second World War, Albert Edward Spring. Borne in a humble cottage on the top of Winwick Hill, he was the second child and her first son, his sister Grace being the Eldest. His father Edward Spring was to die in the First World War and just before his third child John was borne.

             (At this point I will apologise to Mr Spring as from now on I will call him Albert, which I never did when he was alive, though he asked me too once. I know it’s a bit silly maybe, as sadly he will never get to read this and to him it would not matter one jot but for me it’s a respect thing).

            He was brought up; he would say ‘lean and mean’. He was an outdoors person from the very start with a good ear and eye on detail in every respect. Reading his two books ‘Gamekeeping at Hamerton’ and ‘Characters’ and papers that he had given to my dad, who passed them on to me you can see that clearly. These papers and books have made up most of what I have written about the 10^th Para and how it was formed. His youngest son Phil has also kindly given me his account so that a more rounded version of some of his exploits in the Second World War. Albert himself had a wonderful gift of telling you dry facts in a humours way. Feelings such as respect with a sense of fun were always present and I have done my best to carry that on.

            So by 1921 Edith had married again and now had five step sons to contend with. That closely knit community on top of Winwick hill could and did field their own football and cricket teams. His mother who was by all accounts the kindest person and had a big influence on her son and most of the people she met, including my dad. Unfortunately the man that became Albert’s stepdad was not and due possibly to a head injury sustained in the First World War and drink, his character could turn ugly.

            Albert from an early age helped out with the filling of the family cook pot by catching with his catapult and snares, all manor of wildlife, sometimes this would get him a spot of bother in a very Albert way. For instance there was an elderly gentleman who lived in one of the eight cottages, who worked for farmers that needed hedges trimmed and ditches cleaned. So at the bottom of his garden he had constructed an earthen shed with a wood and straw roof to store his tools in. Another of his neighbours, Arthur White was thirteen years Albert’s’ senior. Arthur had a muzzle loader gun that Albert would watch intently, gleaning everything there was to know about the gun by observing.

            Arthur had come up with a cunning plan to draw some sparrows in the line of fire so that as many of these birds could be killed with one shot. Yes they did eat the sparrows and glad of them, they were tasty but you had to be careful how you ate them apparently, not much meat on them and you had to nibble not munch. I never pressed him on that point, having a vivid imagination and a delicate disposition.

            So there they were on a dry and windy day putting bread crumbs on the roof. Now at this point in the story he would find something to do while I sat there building the scene in my mind.  He left me thinking so long sometimes I was sure I smelt the dry earth and straw. I knew what was coming but his pause always added to the story, that and his smile as he would recount the happenings in his minds eye. Now they were fifteen yards away when the gun was deployed. The thing is a mussel shot was a very messy affair, shot and burning paper went all over John’s shed killing a lot of sparrows. Albert’s grin spread all over his face and his eyes would sparkle at this point. In the first instance they were out to retrieve the barbequing birds until they thought about Old John’s tools.

            Sadly by the time they had taken a few tools each it was well alight and the heat too much for the boys to go back in. They saw Old John coming up the path with a youngster’s vigour and there was no doubt in Albert’s mind that if he had caught them they would suffer the same fate as the sparrows. ‘Not sure he would’ve ate us afterwards’ he would wink at me ‘I was a bit tough even as a youngster’. I know he enjoyed seeing the contortions on my face at the telling of this story and as I write it down I still marvel at his antics that could have gone so horribly wrong. As it was John Jolly’s livelihood had been taken away in that instant and if it had happened today allsorts of mayhem would have been caused with social workers and police claiming lots of overtime on his behalf.

             As it was everyone rallied around with each family finding at least one tool for John Jolly. This story goes to demonstrate Mr Springs Character. He always thought of himself as a rogue heading for trouble in his younger days and even to his last breath he was a hunter gatherer, it was his biggest passion in life. But if he had been caught that day he would have taken what was coming to him without qualm or disquiet on his part. It would have played on his mind that this man was put out by his actions but it would have not deterred him from trying other foolish ideas or enjoying the fun of it.

            As a young man he was still living at home but now there were, just his mum, stepfather, younger brother John, their half brother Victor and himself. They would go cycle on Sunday afternoon’s weather permitting. On one such afternoon they met two sisters, Ivy and Olive Taylor. After finding out her name and spending some years getting to know Olive they got married in April 1939. By that September war was declared and on 7^th February 1940 he was a conscript of what was known as the 23 Group at Spring Hill Barracks in Lincon.

            He was Six feet tall and a lean mean fighter and had trained with an ex-boxer named Jack Sharman at Kettering, biking the twenty miles there and back, so it was no wonder he made Lance Corporal in the Eleventh Scottish Commando by Christmas. By the time Dunkirk had taken place Lincolnshire had become part of the frontline with Norfolk and Kent. Being the closest to the enemy territory, aircraft was now part of the daily scene in the sky. Now the new recruits were issued with live ammunition and their fighting skills were sharpened and made ready to fight.

            There was a notice put up asking for volunteers for a specialist unit that was being formed. So 200 of them; incited no doubt by each others banter to put their names down, had packed their kitbags to go to join The Sixth Battalion Seaforth Highlanders, who had lost heavily at Dunkirk.

            Having spent two weeks at Fort George they were then off to Doune in Perthshire for a very pleasant yet all too short time. He was camped next to a river with lovely fish in it, and I’m sure when he left it had quiet a few less lovely fish and many more contented tummies. Up on the board again came his name; he was now to become one of the commandos and went off to Netherdale Mill at Galshiels.

            In his account of what happened shortly after they arrived he wrote “Our commanding Officer who had marched with us, addressed us like this, his first words was ‘Gentlemen, you are all volunteers and, as such you must be ready to fight against all tyrants and oppressors, so when we are welded into a well trained body of men, I hope it will be my privilege to lead you’. His name was Lt. Col R. N Pedder who was from the Black Watch Regiment, who then told us that we were the Eleven Scottis Commandos.” When ever he spoke of Col Pedder and Black Watch you could tell that he had felt he had met his calling, he understood and respect Col Pedder as all his men did.

            They then trained hard for almost a year to form 10 troops and trained on three well equipped ships Glen Gyle, Glen Roy and Glen Hearn. One night in Lamlash Bay Isle of Arron they loaded up to set sail on those ships. The ships were capable of 28 knots and were taking them to Egypt. The sea was rough and sick or not the training continued.

            Their base was at Kabrit and this is where the First Special Air Services was formed that is the S.A.S It was the idea of Lt. Col Stirling who had gone to great lengths to get his idea up and running. Looking back this is an extraordinary thought that someone had to convince the powers to be, that the S.A.S should be formed. I found this on Wikipedia and thought you might like to have a look. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/David_Stirling  this website is of Lt. Col Pedder http://www.commandoveterans.org/cdoGallery/v/units/11/Dick+Pedder+HLI++copy.jpg.html

Training in Egypt, he had told me was enjoyable and was he privilege to have bathed in the same river as Cleopatra had. He asked me if I could tell turning his face to see if any of her beauty had rubbed off. I told him he had to use milk to make a difference, we both found this most amusing and given the chance I’m sure he would have given bathing in milk a go.

            Of the Egyptians he said that they were resourceful and his type of people. He would have studies their ways and found out how to get the best out of his new surroundings. He wrote that he was “fortunate enough to be on a couple of four week patrols; I loved it. There was wonderful variety of wild life in the western desert. There were sand plover and wild turkey, a lot of gazelle, these usually weighed about 30lb and, of course, snakes and lizards, also foxes. It was the foxes that were captured when they asked him to get something very special for some visiting brass. He asked the Chef (who was a local of the area) to spice it up (if you have ever smelt a fox you will understand how musky the creature is and must have been fairly unpalatable). He said that the chef smiled a knowing smile. He would not tell me why those poor guests were going to get a desert fox for their just deserts? He would always say ‘Now look, I have met many idiots in my time but the worst idiots, it has ever been my misfortunes to know have been covered in brass.’ I would ask if they ate the meal and apparently they not only ate it but enjoyed it! ‘No accounting for taste’ he would say. This episode would have lightened the step and load he knew his men had been carrying and am sure this was his intention.

            When wondering out on one patrol, he and his mate came across some old mattresses stacked up in piles, now being resourceful and not ever wasting any opportunity they grabbed them and took them back to base. He told me that he got a restful nights’ sleep but his friend did not fare as well, he had been eaten alive by fleas. We should have known, he would say that they were put out for a reason; they were burning them the next morning. ‘I’ve always known I had bad blood, not even the fleas would touch me.’ We would chuckle knowing how unpleasant that would have been for his mate and jolly glad he had not suffered the same fate.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     

            In the Month of May 1941 the Germans Airborne Forces attacked and captured the Island of Crete, so sailing on Lord Louis Mountbatten’s destroyer, The Kelly they set off to lend a hand but they were under constant attack and ordered to turn back to Alexandria. The men knew how lucky they were to arrive. They disembarked and The Kelly was refuelled, re-armed and set off to see if they could evacuate any of the troops. By the time they reached the island it was under German control and The Kelly was sunk.

             It was thought that the Germans would try to joint up with the Vichy French holding the northern end of the Mediterranean. Having lost many of their finest Officers in the battle for Crete the Germans found it hard and time consuming to regroup, the numbers are truly staggering http://www.explorecrete.com/preveli/battle-of-crete.html gives you a full flavour of the battle.

            With the generosity of the United States the allied forces were building up their fighting strength once again while the Germans licked their wounds. The U.S sent tanks, aircraft and Lorries loaded with beer; a present by the workers and greatly received and enjoyed. Even many years later Albert fondly remembered the strong taste of the bottles of Dow and Black Label.

            The 11^th Scottish Commando’s were called in to help the Austrailian forces that were jammed on the one vehicle track leading up to the iron bridge that was still intact. The Vichy troops had dug into the banks of the Litani that were approximately two hundred feet above the river bed. This caused a stalemate. It was decided to attack from the sea and on the west side. It was the first time Col Pedder was to lead his commandos into action. He was killed within the first ten minutes of the battle. He was 36 and had indeed welded his men into a well trained body that could carry on; even though their leaders were shot. Albert wrote that he believed 176 men died with Col Pedder that day. Another 200 men were wounded with many dying later of their wounds. Albert himself was hit by a piece of shrapnel in his left thigh, he was patched up and carried on the best he could. “They had nowhere to run to” he wrote

            Knowing Albert some years, I knew there was more to it than what he wrote. Putting the Litani river 1941 I came across http://www.combinedops.com and marvelled and smiled at it all.

            I gathered from reading this site that as they were sailing out, there were hasty meetings to organise their plan of action with heated arguments about the timing. One thing that Albert said of Pedder was that he trained the men hard and made sure everything was in place, this was not always under his control though. Reading through this web site you can see why it all went wrong and how the men must have felt about the maps not being adequate enough.

            There were highly trained snipers that seemed to target the higher ranks. Col Pedder had been given a map that did not cover the full area and others were not aware that a small dot on a map could be so big on the ground. These small facts make all the difference to the men on the fighting and could have been responsible for many of the deaths that day.  

            The French blew up the bridge and captured many men. The Australians built a pontoon bridge and freed them again. Albert wrote it took the Australian’s a further three months to gain control of the Syrian coast road.

            When they went back to their training headquarter at Kabrit, there was a change in the atmosphere. They had suffered a great loss as so many good men had been let down by the rush to get the job done. So I have begun to understand why Albert fed the top brass the foxes. Albert chose to put his name down to join the 10^th Para.

            Albert wrote about The Rommel’s Raid which took some of the men 200 miles behind the German’s front line. Albert put it down like this “Understand that General Rommel’s brilliant and courageous way of leading his highly mobile Africa Corp had allowed the Eighth Army to regard his as invincible, which meant that the moral of the whole of that force were very disheartened.” So with as much intelligence (no doubt some gleaned out on patrol) as they could muster the attack was planned and reading through the accounts of the men as ever, you are left with your mouth open in wonderment. It was found out later that Rummel was in Rome when they tried to track him down.

            Albert and his comrades were now becoming experienced soldiers together and were going through a terrible time in the western Desert. The African Corp had driven them out of Lybia. At this point General Montgfomery came and took over. He told the men “From this day on, the only movement will be forward”. Albert would tell me in his straight forward factual voice ‘He was absolutely correct for the simple reason he would never make a move until everything was in place for his men.’

            The next bit in his write up of how the 10^th Par was formed explains what they got up to as the Commandos disbanded and the official forming of the 10^th para was made and is so typical of the man and the men around him. He begins ‘In the waiting’ a flippant use of the word waiting I must say. They carried out a lot of patrols to try to obtain as much knowledge as they could about the Africa Corp’s and caused a lot of irritation to them I would hazard a guess. They also trained with the newly formed S.A.S Commanded by Lt.Col Jock Stirling. At the end of this training they gained their wings. In November 1942 he was given the opportunity to join, not everyone was asked to.

            They were soon in action gaining enemy information, strength and armaments. Training was usually from a submarine. In his son Phil’s account; apparently they would ‘jump overboard into fell boats with full kit on their backs; it was so dark they could not tell whether they had made the safety of the boats to go ashore or not. So they use to tie a rope to their pack and on to the rail of the submarine and if the rope stayed tight for two minutes the crew knew they had missed the fell boat and would pull them out of the water and they would have another go.’ This must have been a bit like the blind leading the blind I would guess and where trust played a big part.

            After they had defeated the German Afrika Korps his Company Commander told them to tighten up on discipline and generally smarten up. When the platoon officer and Albert were inspecting the troops they told Joe Beet to get a hair cut. The next morning parading in battle order, they were inspected again. When they got almost abreast of Joe, Joe stepped forward, took off his helmet and showed off his new haircut. His comrades had shaved his head until it was as Albert would say ‘as bald as a pound of lard.’ Joe was so well liked and it caused a lot of amusement within the platoon.

            They were then off to Taranto and then onto Casttstellanceta. I wrote a piece in my blog about this and the link below will take you there.

http://tillymoments.blogspot.com/2010/11/my-humble-tribute.html

            When they advanced to the out skirts of the town, by Albert’s account they advanced section by section he wrote “there was a road that went off to the right at that point a machine gun opened up from our immediate front and another from the side street. We did not have any real cover and two of my men were hit, one of them a young soldier, his surname was Martin: he always looked so boyish and young that we always called him young Martin: he died during the night. The other wounded man eventually made a good recovery and came back to the unit after we returned to England. That is war and that is how it goes. Also lost that day by machine gun fire was their divisional commander General Hopkinson. When we were ambushed, the first man to get his machine gun into action was Jim Westbury.”

            I find it so chilling, hidden under these words are the emotions of a man who understood the consequence of those scattered life’s littered around him. There is no mention of the sight, sound or smell of it all. He would have considered it too dramatic but I know he would have relived every one of his senses that were highly tuned from a very young age. He is quite correct, to have lived through it for him was enough.

            Their next objective was Goiya, they advanced but were driven back so they pushed harder, eventually driving out the Germans. There they found a fiat lorry that had broken down which they got going again, they loaded it up with supplies and set off again, forever the resourceful hunter gatherer.

            As they entered Bari they were met by Italian civilians headed by the Lord Mayor, this would have pleased Albert. They stopped and had some food and took a bath in hot water with plenty of soap and he recalled how good it felt.

            At Bari they were to get ready for a seaborne attack but their heavier units advanced more quickly than expected he wrote “We thanked them in our minds and toasted them in wine. The Comfort Funds Officer used 3 pounds sterling to buy 75 gallons of red wine for the unit.” So they would have thanked them well!

            They stayed for a month in Bari in luxury and comfort a much needed rest and recoup for them. 19^th December 1943 they were back in England. The Tenth Para Campaign in Italy was over and it was back to waiting and training. On their journeys he was fortunate enough to pass by Col Pedders grave and a Comrade of his one Q.M Sgt. Knobby Clarke took a few photographs of the graves there.

            One very telling sentence Albert put “Little did we think of the carnage that we were to be sent into in the following September at Arnhem.

            After all he had been through, for him to use the words ‘carnage’ it must have been a hell on earth and reading a lot of accounts by all who took part, he was as ever, correct.

I give my thanks to all that have helped me with getting Mr Springs facts together. All the websites I visited I have added as I looked them up. They in the most part are run on a voulantry basis and great reads, they have included as many orriginal accounts as possible. I have written with Mr Springs facts, as he requested no facts to be changed.

www.pegasusarchive.org/arnhem I have found out from Mark that Joe Beet was taken prisoner at Arnham and if anyone has any information about him I would be very greatful indead.

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