The Black Watch Royal Highland Regiment 42nd foot. The watch was formed in 1739 to protect Scotland and given the name black from the dark colour of its Tartan – a bastard Tartan as it’s not a clan tartan). Its Museum is in Balhousie Castle, its regimental Headquarters since 1962, prior to that it was in Queens Barracks Perth. Where I went to when I was first posted to the Regiment.
I became a Sassenach in this famous Scottish Regiment, a Sassenach is the Gaelic word for Saxon and I was truly a south Saxon as I was born in the County of South Saxons or “Sussex”.
This is me in a kilt only the knees remain the same!! This came about by the wonderful organisation of the army and “Monty” Any in the Services will know, things are different they even speak a different language.
As a young lad of seventeen summers in 1942, I volunteered for the tank Regiment but was told I must first take a course in gunnery. It consisted of four two-month courses Gun-laying, signalling, driving and a specialist course at the school of Artillery, Larkfield on Salisbury plain. We were mere young Artillerymen. On passing out in all four categories, one was sent to Officers training camp. Having passed only in Gun laying, signalling, Morse 24 words a minute and able to use all types of army radios, becoming a driver in charge of all four wheeled vehicles and motorcycles.
Four of us lads were sent off to the 188th field regiment as potential sergeants! I found out later “Monty” had decided he wanted more Artillery!
Luckily the four of us stayed with this Regiment only for five disastrous months. The Colonel of the regiment was named Lt Col Lowsey-Williams and it was known as “Lousy Bills Travelling Circus” We four musketeers were put in a hut of 28 Borstal Boys. Two of whom could read a little, none of them could write.
Soon we were driving Quads and doing Gun trials. Off we went on manoeuvres to Wales a foreign mountainous country. Two weeks of rain under canvas, no beer available and the girls spoke a foreign language.
We did two shoots; one over open sights at white markers on the opposite mountain range. We fired; the markers ran away ….we were firing at flocks of sheep on the wrong mountain. The second shoot was by direction method, firing over the mountain range into its valley, where we shelled our infantry ‘Mates’ Luckily, only injuring a few. They weren’t very happy about this so we left Wales by the coast road, losing one gun and limber which came adrift, tore across the road and disappeared over a cliff sinking out of sight beneath the sea! Not a pretty sight to see a BSM in tears.
You maybe were thinking what’s this to do with the Black Watch? Well Monty Strikes again. Too many Gunners not enough PBI (poor bloody infantry) to assault Europe “Disband four lots of artillery and send them to the Infantry” said he.
The four of us, two from Sussex Regiment, one from Queens West Kent Regiment and one from Surrey Hants and Dorset Regiment, thought good, so we are off to one of our county regiments. Scanning the Notice board we found we were posted to ‘Queens Barracks’, Perth. The depot of the Black Watch – the shock was enormous!
We had to learn a new language. The drill sergeants sounded as if they were giving orders gargling through treacle. We had porridge sprinkled with salt. They took away our forage caps for bonnets Tam-O-Shanters. One pair of trousers in exchange for a kilt . Our shirts re issued with no tails!. Worst of all instead of a bugle call reveille at 5.30am the hut door flung open with the terrible noise which issued from some fat bodied many legged animal which had apparently gripped a soldier round the chest, whilst the soldier red in the face was trying to bite its head off whilst squeezing its body in attempt to crush it. So we were introduced to “Tha Peeps”. We also found we were “bliddy Sassenachs” (Saxons) and should “Och awa an gone yer totties”
The Tartan of Black Blue and Green is not of a Scottish clan. As Clan means in Gaelic “children of” must be a blood relation of the clan chief. ‘Mac’ “means ‘Son of’
(Similar to the Welsh AP or P the P’owell son of owell & P’richard). Other Gaelic names as follows: Scotland, Caledonia or Hibernia of the Romans Hibernia – which I think must have been Latin for Hypothermia. You may think the Scots are a white race really they are a blue Race, which go white after a week in the sun. The east coast is bordered by the North sea. Lower Artic Ocean never gets warmer than 40 degree’s Fahrenheit about 8 centigrade. The west coast is warmed by the Gulf Stream. Therefore it’s wet so the time I spent there I was either wet or cold. We were trained to march faster, wear our Tam O Shanters at the correct angle and move our hips to make the Kilt swing. You may ask what a Scotsman wears under his kilt. Answer Nothing! No wonder the Scots are a hardy race.
The Drum Majors inspection on leaving camp. **Note: because this story is written from speech note’s Dad would have given full details in his usual humorous way. I remember him telling me how they had to stand on a mirror in the Sentry box before leaving camp. Dad came to love wearing a kilt and as my brother and I both know he was never to keen on wearing underpants!
After learning about Whisky, Hogmanay and Haggis we were posted to the 7th Battalion in 154 Brigade of the 51st Highlander Division and training for the second front in Europe, Tuesdays 10 mile run Full kit 90lbs, Fridays 35 mile route march with a 200 yard Bayonet charge at the finish. Officers and men, Officers equipped the same with rifles.
Then live ammo training, machine guns firing on fixed lines 24” above the ground – low crawl then came the bonus Night Manoeuvres in the same manner then you could see the tracer bullets and live grenades throw in holes in the ground they erupted with shattering roars, and explosive charges lit up the night. The colonel affectionately know as “Black Charlie” informed us cheerfully that he was allowed 15% casualties in training, but he would be extremely annoyed if anyone was killed. At night we went to sea in assault craft and landed on unknown beaches. We had to climb the cliffs under attack by other troops throwing Bakelite Mills bombs No. 69 and thunderflashes. Then marching back to camp in the early dawn; the company commander with a furrow across his forehead from a ricochet and dried blood down his face, some had broken bones and injured hands. Luckily we kept within our 15%. I had never felt so fit in my life even though I had been timber felling for three years previously.
I was married 20th May 1944 and Honeymooned in London dressed in my kilt. There we went boating on the Serpentine.
The story we were told relates how on Honeymoon Mum insisted that they travelled on the top deck of buses (The bottom deck was no smoking). My Dad was not shy but wearing a kilt with the steep staircase on a crowded bus. It was very difficult to keep things decent! They hired a punt to go out on the Serpentine (A Lake in Hyde Park) all went well until they came to bring the boat in. Mum jumped ashore first which rocked the boat ,Dad was thrown off balance to steady himself his leg went in the air throwing the kilt up. Supplying a floor show, for those in the queue for a boat.. Quite a few people were now well aware of what was worn under a kilt. Jean
“D “ came and on day four, my nineteenth Birthday, I awoke to dawn off the Coast of France in an LCT. I was glad we were fit when I had to climb about 30ft down the side of the ship on scrabbling nets. Carrying 90lbs of Kit and a box of Bren Mag’s into the assault craft which was bobbing up and down. One misstep and I would be standing to attention at the bottom of the English Channel. Monty had struck again
We landed at Sword Beach 7 Here I was in a foreign land, unable to speak the language and being shot at part of the bargain. Struggling to learn such essential phases as “Avec vous des oeffs si vous plais“ (Have you any eggs please) and “Vildane vous promenade mademoiselle!“
We marched our way over the dunes and inland for about 3 miles to just over Pegasus Bridge, captured by the 6th Airborne Division idly watching the eruptions of exploding enemy shells still not realising they could kill you. Sleeping that night peacefully under lorries loaded with ammunition secure in their protection.
Next Day we marched off through Rainsville to take up our front line position in an orchard. Occasionally firing off a few rounds at moving figures about 600 yards away.
That night the Artillary shelled those positions and at dawn the 7th Argyle and southern highlanders did the attack. There was I sitting peacefully in my hole in the ground eating dinner of M&V out of my mess tin when I heard a voice “ Ver is your Offitzer?” and I looked up into the face of a 9ft German Officer and three other Germans armed with Schnauzers I was Moved!
The Officer explained they wished to surrender. I took them to the platoon Officer who promptly said “ You found them,you march them down to the P.O.W cage.” Which was three miles away.
Notes here read Visit Alf Tankard who was another company. Dead! – Now three musketeers .
We moved to another position by a church used as an O.P. it adjoined a cabbage field, so early next morning in heavy mist we cut cabbages for the cook. We were living of Compo Rations, nothing fresh so we all went off with sandbags merrily cutting cabbages when we looked up and found the mist had lifted and there in the sunshine on the opposite side of the field the Jerries were doing the same thing ….so we left.
By this time I was number 1 on the Bren and the section down to one N.C.O and 5 men . In eight weeks we had lost 37 Officers, 3 padres and 545 men. (English and Canadian troops had 84,000 Casualties by the end of August)
We hadn’t been out of our clothes to bathe, we were promised a bath next morning. But in the night the Jerries shelled the bath house which had been conveniently sighted on a crossroads, luckily we were marched 7 miles to the sea. Where under the cover of a smoke screen supplied by our old friend H.M.S Rodney. We stripped naked and ran into the sea. Not a pretty sight for the Natives.
One morning moving forward to attack at Colombelles Factory we saw the figures of the 6th Airborne troops laying at the side of the road and alongside buildings. We wondered what had happened until we found one of the buildings has a cellar with four large vats of Calvados which was flooded about 2ft deep; someone had left the tap on, filling two four and a half gallon water cans we went on our way with the men of the 6th airborne snoring happily away.
Burnt out wreak at side of road. Falaise Gap. First loaf of bread in weeks. Ted Evans (Dead) two musketeers.
After Falaise onto the Seine at river and across and onto Fecamp to take up positions outside Benedictine Abbey where the Dominican Monks were still in residence and had supplies. The breakout of France into Belgium and Holland “just one more canal to cross.” Airborne landing to Nimeejen Bridge to relieve the American 112th Airborne Division then Christmas dash to the Ardennes where the yanks were running all the way to Brussells. Then through the Siegfield line in the German state forest of the “Reichwald”.
Then the Rhine Crossing. The Airborne Landings a wonderful sight, awe inspiring hundreds of aircraft and gliders. The 7th Armoured Division ‘Desert Rats’, Pigs and Chickens. (This might be referring to the tanks carrying all sorts of things with them tied down. My Father-in-law, Don Foster was with armoured Division. Dad and he used to yarn together about how they followed one another during the war. Don said at one time someone had a grandfather clock strapped to a Tank! the ‘chickens and pigs’ referred to were fresh food – Jean)
The pipes at dawn. On our first leave in a year. 5am my wife answers door with: “…would you like a cup of tea?”
Back to Germany in time to be in the attack on Bremen.
Luneburge Heath
May 4th in Hospital. (Dad had a bayonet wound courtesy of a fellow soldier who went ‘bomb happy’ ….it went through his foot. Jean)
I was lying on a stretcher when a few days later we heard the sounds of shouting and rifle fire then bursts of Machine gun fire. Wondering what the Hell’s happening! Its V.E. Day the end of the War in Europ!
The Occupation of Germany- Well that’s another Story.
Addendum by Jean
(1942 -1947) Dad didn’t get around to writing or speaking about the occupation of Germany, which is a shame. He did say he liked the German People; they taught him the language (and local dialect), some of which he shared with me when young, and manners. He was in Northern Germany above Hamburg and did speak of going to the sea coast. He served in France, Belgium, Holland, Germany and Denmark. Living in a billet ( which may have been a pub.) He mentioned drinking Beer with the locals and once having driven “Goerings” staff car and knowing Goerings niece. When he went back to Germany after VE Day he may well have been with a different Division maybe a military policeman.
Unlike Mum he didn’t dislike the German or Japanese people and thought wars were a senseless waste of human life. Although he joined the Normandy Veterans and the New Zealand R S A. he believed in Peace. Since it came to light that I may have a half brother who was born around 1948 this may very well have been the reason for him not speaking on the occupation.
He sent me a card for my first Birthday 21st May 1947 which I still have, which used coloured ink and he made it himself. Mum and I were living at Gran’s smallholding near Lewis, Sussex. There was a photo of my party so I know he was not home then.
He sent a Christmas card to his brother Peter …same ink and paper so he must have been in Germany Christmas 1947. So, it must have been beginning of 1948 he came home. Mum used to ask me, in his presence “Where’s your Daddy?” after he came home and I used to point to the picture of him on the mantle shelf. Looking back on this, she thought it funny, but in light of other circumstances I think she must have had a cruel streak in her as she must have known then about the child he had in Germany – which we did not learn about until after mum died!
Just one of the skeletons in our family cupboard …there are many more Like my Grandmothers Abortion, my uncle Peter’s occupation during the war years (probably a code breaker at Bletchley) and my Great Grandmothers illegitimate children. The Great Great Grand fathers three months in goal in Holland for fighting and violence. My Mum’s Grandmother who had an illegitimate child (results of rape) and was put in the work house. She married a cousin of hers who rescued her.