| The Major who commanded Right Flank, told us that at first light in the morning, the Battalion would move up to the start line. He said, “The Battalion will attack and take the woods on the outskirts of the town and then the village beyond.” This village I now know is Badenstelt. It was always, “we will attack and take”, not, “we will attack and try to take”.
The attack was to be made straight up the road. Right Flank (my company) was to lead; 8 Platoon (my platoon) was to be the leading platoon and my section was to be the leading section of the platoon. I was section commander, which means that I was to be the first man up the road.
Whilst at the ‘0’ Group, the Major introduced a new Lieutenant, who had just come up to join the battalion. We had been without an officer for a week or more so he was to command 8 Platoon. Tomorrow would be his first action. After speaking to him I found that, like me, he was nineteen.
I went back to the billet and told the members of my section what was on in the morning. It was nothing different to what we had done many times before and, although I was to lead the advance up the road, this too was something I had done before but this time I had a feeling it was going to be different. I suppose it was a premonition. I remember leaving my room and I almost fell downstairs. When I managed to steady myself I thought it might have been a good idea if I had fallen and hurt myself. I tried it a couple of times but it didn’t work. I went off to bed soon after and slept like a log.
We were up early in the morning of the 26th April and hurriedly went through all the usual preparations for an attack including a meal and tea. There was never any panic – everyone looked calm no matter how they were feeling and we all knew what to do.
We set off up the road towards the start line with me leading. The start line is the place from which the attack begins and when we got there we crouched down while everyone took up position. My section was on the left-hand side of the road, then the next section on the right; the platoon officer, his servant, the two PIAT men and the wireless operator followed on the left, then the third section on the right. After that came the first troop of Welsh Guards tanks.
As ‘H’ hour approached our artillery behind us opened up with their barrage and the customary din began. Shortly after, our Heavy Machine Gun Company of the Royal Northumberland Fusiliers, also in our rear, began to fire their Vickers machine guns over our heads. They were spraying the woods in front of us and we could see the branches and leaves falling off the trees. The Welsh Guards tanks also joined in with their guns and machine guns.
The new Lieutenant came up and said we were going in a minute or so. He looked a bit nervous but he was putting on a brave face. I always felt a bit sorry for a new officer coming up because although he had to take charge he had no experience of action. I told him that the Germans would start shelling any time especially when we got on the move. Since I would be in front, I told him whenever he saw me go in the ditch he should go in too.
We got the word to go so we began to walk and as usual the enemy shelling started. Some went over our heads but a lot came close. Those of us who had been in the division for some time knew when to dive in the ditch and when to get up. You can tell by the sound of the shell as it goes through the air.
The woods were coming up fairly close when suddenly I felt a hard blow in my right side and a sharp pain. That’s all. As I went down I shouted out what had become automatic to us, “Stretcher bearers!” I rolled into the ditch and the Guardsman immediately behind me said, “Give us your shovel Corporal. You’ll no’ need it noo”. Let me explain. Every infantryman carried either a pick or a shovel in order to dig quickly to get below ground level as a protection against shelling. Shovels were much preferred as you could get a trench dug quicker. This particular Guardsman had a pick and wanted a shovel.
My second-in-command in the section was a Lance Corporal who came from Littlehampton in Sussex. We had been friends since 1943 when we were in Snowdonia. His place in the line was near the end of the section. Now that I was out of action, however, he had to take my place. He came up and said, “You rotten bugger! I’ll have to go in front now.”
The others had to go on and leave me, so I lay in the ditch and held a shell dressing to the wound to try and stop the blood. I never lost consciousness and just waited for the stretcher-bearers to come. The company and a few tanks went past and the shelling continued off and on. I just hoped none would fall in the ditch. A shell landed in the road and a bloke was killed. I could see it was a bloke from Birmingham who was in another platoon. All this time I thought I would die but I felt quite calm. I thought, “Poor Mother, Owen (my brother) is missing and now this.”
For a while no-one seemed to be going past. The advance must have been held up on the woods in front. Things did start moving again and then I heard someone say, “There’s one here.” I looked up and saw it was a stretcher-bearers’ jeep. Two of them came down, put me on a stretcher and then onto the jeep and when I looked I saw the Lieutenant, our new officer, and that he was dead.
I was taken to the RAP (Regimental Aid Post) and then onto the Casualty Clearing Station where a Medical Officer saw me and I was given blood transfusions. The MO bandaged me up and said, “Well lad, that’s your war over.” Later I was put in an ambulance with three other wounded, to be taken further back. When we had gone some way the ambulance broke down and the orderly told us we would be transferred to another one, which would arrive soon. They took us out of the ambulance and laid us on the grass verge. We were right outside the main gate of Belsen Concentration Camp.
When the fresh vehicle came we were taken to a large hospital at Celle, which had been taken over by the Royal Army Medical Corps. I was taken to a ward and put on a bed where a nurse came to cut off my uniform and give me a bed bath. I was rather surprised when she spoke to me and it was obvious that she was German. The nurses had, apparently, stayed on and were carrying on with their job.
I stayed in that hospital having penicillin injections every three hours until I was flown to Brussels and then, after a few days, from there to Swindown in Wiltshire where I landed on 5th May. We went by train to Newport, Monmouthshire where I stayed for some time.
On 8th May, VE Day, when all the church bells were ringing and everyone was going crazy with relief and happiness, my Mother and Dad got the letter telling them that I had been wounded.
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