Chapter 4 - A Fully Trained Soldier

CHAPTER 1V - A FULLY TRAINED SOLDIER

All this time training had proceeded as normal and by now we were reaching the culminating point. We did the ten mile forced march in two hours with all the impedimenta of war, small pack, full waterbottle, rifles etc. My knee had not altogether recovered from the twist I gave it at WOSBy. I still remember the agony I suffered during and after the forced march. Unable to use my knee fully, I overworked every other muscle in my and legs with disasterous results.

I collapsed, I gave up. I fell out. But Williams on one side, and someone on the other, said, 'you can't give up; you must go on'. They supported me for 100 yards - 100 paces. Each with their shoulder grasped to mine. I suddenly found I could carryon. They, from their weary bodies, had injected the spirit that made me realise I could regain my independence. Thank you.

About this time I suffered a further reverse in the form of a sceptic hand which was in the first place aggrivated by the Royal Army Medical Corps, and in the second, badly treated. An RAMC Corporal squeezed my hand to get the puss out, but, in fact, forced the infection back into the palm of my hand. This caused a more serious and painful wound.

The camp deterred people from going sick by making it such hard work that one must be just about dead before the work involved justified itself. 'Reveille' was at six and by half-past, all one's kit had to be packed into the kit-bag, and taken to the stores, complete with bedding and rifle. That week passed slowly. I was hanging about all day with nothing to do except get cold, miserable and lonely with the prospect of being regarded as unfit to travel on leave.

But eventually I was able to go on leave and enjoy myself as much as ever with a hand that soon recovered under competant medical supervision.

It would be a waste of time and a big job to record what went on during those ten days. Everything was however placed second to the end of the war in Europe during the last few days of my leave. VE day.

No sooner had we returned off leave than preparations began for a seventy-two hour scheme. Many attempts, some successful, were made to scrounge food. A private stock of cigarettes was horded. Bit by bit, we were coming to regard ourselves as old soldiers.

It was on a fine sunny morning we set out. The company was organised into three platoons, two of which were commanded by lieutenants, ours by a captain. We all had to march along independently, each platoon doing an exercise which was criticised by the others as they followed up.

A strange thing occurred which I have never seen before, or since. The Captain led us along the the roads with the aid of his map. He had previously reconnoitred the route. But he suddenly halted us, spoke to a passing civilian, and gave us the about turn. Whatever caused this, he made us march back extremely quickly in an effort, I imagine, to conceal his 'faux-pas'.
By the time we reached our bivouac area it was six. After a good meal, we set to erecting our bivies for the night. Bivies are shelters shared by two soldiers, made by joining our groundsheets together like a little ridge tent.

The question of a guard soon cropped up. Yes, I was unlucky this time. On guard we did at least get plenty of tea, extra bread and cheese, and a hut to sleep in while off duty.

In the morning we marched a matter of some five miles to a field firing range for a live ammunition exercise. As it was my first days field firing since I'd joined the Army, I was looking forward to it with happy reminisces of my Home Guard days.
Field firing exercises were hard work. As well as rifles and ammunition, we had to carry the bren light machine gun and its ammunition. Carrying these extras was shared across the section. I had begun to wonder if all the physical effort would prove more than enough. What about the safety of the others with live ammunition.

On arrival there, we started the first of our schemes, but soon interrupted by some cattle appearing quite close to the targets. Our instructors were not greatly perturbed and merely drove the cattle out of the area by judicious use of the bren gun.

It was not long before the herd interrupted someone else. Then the Company Commander got to hear of it. All firing was suspended. The flap was on. The company commander had forgotten to warn the farmer to clear the fields. The difficulty was overcome by sending out a patrol to drive the cattle to a certain corner of the field and there to mount guard on them.

The authorities had intended to give us a really tiring day but were unable to organise it sufficiently. We still had to do two of the schemes, but escaped the fourth. Even so, we were extremely tired and hungry by the time we had marched back to our bivies. But we soon had our rifles cleaned and inspected, and so to bed.

Early in the morning we had our breakfast and pulled down our bivies. This was the last day. All we had to face was the march back, a journey of some thirty miles but fortunately we were told, ten miles of this was to be covered by trucks. By lunch time we were all thoroughly worn out. There were only three of the normal eight or so left in our section who had sufficient strength left to carry the bren gun.

While we were having our lunch, the Company comander rolled in, cool and contented on a motor-bike. He informed his platoon commanders that his arrangements for transport had failed and we might have to march all the way back. If looks could have killed, our Company Commander would have lain there mortally wounded by a blow from each of his platoon commanders.

When they broke the news to us officially, we obeyed without a murmur knowing full well whose fault it was. After all, they were marching with us and as anxious for a ride as we were.

After we had marched for a further two hours, transport did arrive. We got a lift of five miles, after which we had to march the last four. That is those who could still stand it, say 70% of those who started in the morning, or 60% of those who left camp two days previously. As before, those heaps of worn out humanity, dressed in rags, covered in mud, were there in the morning a mass of blanco and shining brasses.

Our next ordeal was a twenty-five mile route march.

The morning. was of that clear and cool type which denoted warmth later on. In fact the record for May was beaten for some fifteen years by a temperature in the neighbourhood of 80°F in the shade when you could find it. In the morning our Company Commander got lost, increasing the distance from some twenty five miles to twenty eight. Everyone liked him.

A further minor error had been made in the rendez-vous with the ration truck. We had lunch and half-a-pint of tea at 2 o'clock on an open road without even a hedge to protect us from the sun.
After lunch, we donned our thick serge battle-dresses, and packs with their water bottles we were not allowed to touch, and carried on. Little more can be said than just that. Nobody was sufficiently alive to take any interest in their surroundings. We were all too thirsty to sing any songs which usually form a sufficient stimulus to cheer any platoon on the march.

Half-a-mile outside the camp we had to halt to do up our necks, roll down our sleeves and generally tidy up ready for the Colonel to inspect us when we got in.

During this halt, several sat down, but wiser folk remained on their feet. Three of our people who got down were so affected by the proximity of the camp that they could not get up. Several others had to be dragged up and put on their feet.

One big concession was granted to us on our return. The Colonel dismissed us after five minutes drill instead of the usual twenty.

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