Tendring Topics…….on Line
‘Old unhappy far-off things and battles long ago’
Wm Wordsworth ‘The Solitary Reaper’
A few weeks before Christmas, I had a phone call that took me back into the distant past. It was from someone in Derby who had been a member of the 67th Medium Regiment RA in which I had served during World War II. He had not only been in the same regiment but in the same battery (the 231st) and the same four-gun troop (B Troop) as myself. I had known him, though only slightly; he having been a sergeant and I a lowly gunner and a member of a different gun team. He had learned, goodness knows how, that I was one of the survivors of the regiment and he was keen to make contact.
We didn’t have a great deal in common either then or now – and I have never been all that enthusiastic about this ‘old comrades’ business. However we had a friendly chat about our common experiences in Egypt and Libya and our very different experiences as prisoners of war. He wanted information about the regiment’s casualties, particularly those who were killed by ‘friendly fire’ when the Italian steamer ‘SS Scillen’ was torpedoed by a British submarine while loaded with British PoWs being transported from Libya to Italy. I had a complete list of fatal casualties, one hundred in all (out of a regiment of some 700), together with the date, place of burial where applicable, and names of next of kin. It was on eleven A4 pages. I offered to scan them into my laptop and send them to him by email. He didn’t have internet access (that was something else that we didn’t have in common) but his son had.
He also had some photos that he thought would interest me. And they certainly did. I was amazed to learn that a spool, or possibly a cassette, of film had survived the detailed searches to which, as a PoW, I had been subjected, (but perhaps sergeants were treated differently!) and brought back to England at the end of the war to be developed.
His computer literate son forwarded them to me, but not in a form that made it possible for me to print them or reproduce them. Luckily my elder son and daughter-in-law are I.T. experts and when they brought me home to Clacton after Christmas they reproduced them for me in a manageable format. Here they are. The first is of one of our 6in diameter howitzers in action in the Libyan Desert early in 1942. It has just been fired and the angle of the barrel suggests to me that it was at a target at maximum range. It is in
a dug-out gun-pit and has a camouflage net strung over it. On being fired it would have hurled a 100lb high-explosive shell up in the air to drop onto its target. This made howitzers ideal weapons against fortifications but almost totally useless in mobile warfare against enemy tanks. The ‘pole’ held upright by a crew member in the rear is, in fact, the ramrod with which the shell was rammed into the lower end of the gun barrel so that its encircling copper ‘driving band’ pressed tightly against the internal rifling of the gun barrel.
For some time in the spring of 1942 we were positioned in a dried-up river valley or wadi. One night we had a tropical rain-storm.
The heavens opened and within minutes, or so it seemed, the wadi was awash. The gun pits were flooded and so were the shallow trenches in which we slept under ‘bivvy tents’. If Rommel had attacked that night he would have encountered no resistance from us. But probably his forces, just a mile or two to our west, were suffering in the same way. In th
e North African Desert, nature (an arid featureless landscape, sand-storms blown up by Khamsin winds from the south - like an oven door opening! - and very occasional tropical deluges) was the common enemy of the opposing armies.
‘Old unhappy far-off things and battles long ago’
Wm Wordsworth ‘The Solitary Reaper’
A few weeks before Christmas, I had a phone call that took me back into the distant past. It was from someone in Derby who had been a member of the 67th Medium Regiment RA in which I had served during World War II. He had not only been in the same regiment but in the same battery (the 231st) and the same four-gun troop (B Troop) as myself. I had known him, though only slightly; he having been a sergeant and I a lowly gunner and a member of a different gun team. He had learned, goodness knows how, that I was one of the survivors of the regiment and he was keen to make contact.
We didn’t have a great deal in common either then or now – and I have never been all that enthusiastic about this ‘old comrades’ business. However we had a friendly chat about our common experiences in Egypt and Libya and our very different experiences as prisoners of war. He wanted information about the regiment’s casualties, particularly those who were killed by ‘friendly fire’ when the Italian steamer ‘SS Scillen’ was torpedoed by a British submarine while loaded with British PoWs being transported from Libya to Italy. I had a complete list of fatal casualties, one hundred in all (out of a regiment of some 700), together with the date, place of burial where applicable, and names of next of kin. It was on eleven A4 pages. I offered to scan them into my laptop and send them to him by email. He didn’t have internet access (that was something else that we didn’t have in common) but his son had.
He also had some photos that he thought would interest me. And they certainly did. I was amazed to learn that a spool, or possibly a cassette, of film had survived the detailed searches to which, as a PoW, I had been subjected, (but perhaps sergeants were treated differently!) and brought back to England at the end of the war to be developed.
His computer literate son forwarded them to me, but not in a form that made it possible for me to print them or reproduce them. Luckily my elder son and daughter-in-law are I.T. experts and when they brought me home to Clacton after Christmas they reproduced them for me in a manageable format. Here they are. The first is of one of our 6in diameter howitzers in action in the Libyan Desert early in 1942. It has just been fired and the angle of the barrel suggests to me that it was at a target at maximum range. It is in
a dug-out gun-pit and has a camouflage net strung over it. On being fired it would have hurled a 100lb high-explosive shell up in the air to drop onto its target. This made howitzers ideal weapons against fortifications but almost totally useless in mobile warfare against enemy tanks. The ‘pole’ held upright by a crew member in the rear is, in fact, the ramrod with which the shell was rammed into the lower end of the gun barrel so that its encircling copper ‘driving band’ pressed tightly against the internal rifling of the gun barrel.For some time in the spring of 1942 we were positioned in a dried-up river valley or wadi. One night we had a tropical rain-storm.
The heavens opened and within minutes, or so it seemed, the wadi was awash. The gun pits were flooded and so were the shallow trenches in which we slept under ‘bivvy tents’. If Rommel had attacked that night he would have encountered no resistance from us. But probably his forces, just a mile or two to our west, were suffering in the same way. In th
e North African Desert, nature (an arid featureless landscape, sand-storms blown up by Khamsin winds from the south - like an oven door opening! - and very occasional tropical deluges) was the common enemy of the opposing armies.Flooded! Libya 1942
Anyway, someone had managed to keep his camera dry, and had captured on film one of our guns half submerged by the flood waters.
There was another picture of interest to me – nine men in less-than-smart battle dress (a gun crew I imagine) in a desert environment. It could have been, but wasn’t, the gun crew of which I was a member. In fact, although most of those faces are familiar to me, I can’t put a name to a single one of them! Well, it was a long time ago. The photo is dated January 1942 and my guess is that it was taken shortly after we had taken part in the capture of the German and Italian strongholds at Bardia and Wadi Halfaya (‘Hellfire Pass’). We were withdrawn to Sidi Barrani, well inside Egypt, and told that we were destined
for Palestine. It sounded too good to be true – and so it was! Far away in Tripolitania, Rommel’s reinforced Afrikakorps had counter-attacked in strength. We had had heavy tank losses. Our regiment was ordered back to Gazala where, after some six months of more-or-less continuous action, we were overwhelmed and captured at Tobruk.
Those remarkable photographs transported me in memory across a continent, an ocean, and a time span of nearly seventy years to Wordsworth’s, ‘Old unhappy far-off things and battles long ago’.
Much ado about…….very little!
The Clacton Gazette’s headlines last week (5th January) could have been from the local newspaper at Hamelin before the Pied Piper put in an appearance. The Rat Pack - It’s ‘Christmas for vermin’ as rubbish uncollected for a fortnight piles up.
My word! Are rats running in packs in our streets? Ought we all to be vaccinated against Bubonic Plague? Hardly; it was simply because in those parts of our district that normally have a refuse and salvage collection on a Monday or Tuesday, one week’s collection was missed altogether and the following week the collection was a day later than usual. I live in an area that has a Tuesday collection so I know very well that there were extra filled black bags to deal with. I leave mine just inside my driveway but others are unable or unwilling to do that. Carelessly disposed black bags began to obstruct the pavements. Negotiating past them in a mobility scooter, or with a pram of wheelchair, became difficult.
But it was only for a few days. By 8.30 a.m. on Wednesday of the second week the piles of bags had vanished and the street and pavements were clear. There had been two public holidays on normal working days in Christmas week and one in the following week. I don’t think that either the council or the contractors should be criticised for the way that they dealt with the problem that those three ‘days off’ created.
They could have kept the collectors working, making the overtime payments to which they would have been entitled – but the council has been compelled by the government to save every penny and they would certainly have been told that those overtime payments weren’t essential. They could have put the collections back two days on the first week and back a further day on the second. That would have caused confusion. Few people would have known when their refuse and salvage would be collected. I think that in cutting out the collection completely for one week in part of the district (even though it is the part I live in!) was probably the right decision.
I was amused to see that, as I had forecast a week or so ago, a Government Minister of whom few people had previously heard, decided to take on the role of ‘a knight in shining armour’. He wrote to all local authorities (I wonder what that bit of self-publicity cost us?) urging them to adopt a ‘can do’ attitude and keep the wheels of the refuse vehicles turning. I wonder what he would have suggested – perhaps appealing for ‘big Society’ volunteers to clear the rubbish!
I think that Tendring Council, and their refuse collecting contractors, deserve our thanks and congratulations rather than hysterical criticism. The service kept going through the ice and snow, when collecting filled bags and carrying them across icy pavements must have been a hazardous business. Over Christmas and the New Year, no-one as far as I know, missed more than one weekly connection.
We should remember that, as a result of government spending cuts, a fortnightly refuse collection is a already a reality in many areas. Tendring Council has so far managed to avoid this. I hope they continue to do so. Waiting a fortnight for a collection, just once, and in the depth of winter is one thing. Having regularly to wait a fortnight in the heat of summer (imagine the piles of rubbish, the smells, the flies, the rats!) would really be something to grumble about!
Crisis? What Crisis?
I am not a great follower of either cricket or football. I’m mildly pleased when I note that Ipswich has won a football match (something that hasn’t happened recently!) and I found myself quite excited when the English Cricket Team retained ‘the ashes’ and won the recent test match series in Australia.
Making a contribution to this victory is said to have been the support of the ‘Barmy Army’ of between 15,000 and 20,000 British Cricket fans who religiously – one might almost say ‘obsessively’ – follow the test match team wherever it goes.
Good for them! But I find it difficult to believe that Britain can possibly be in such dire financial straits that public services have had to be cut, taxes like VAT that principally affect poorer people raised, and working people told that they’ll have to work harder for less money, when between 15.000 and 20,000 of us can spare the time and the money to travel half-way round the world to watch a series of cricket matches? I have been told that any fan who stayed in Australia for the six weeks of the test series could easily have spent £2,000 per week there!
Crisis? What Crisis? I reckon that for most of the Barmy Army the most serious crisis that they can envisage is one of England’s leading players twisting an ankle and being unfit to play!
Anyway, someone had managed to keep his camera dry, and had captured on film one of our guns half submerged by the flood waters.
There was another picture of interest to me – nine men in less-than-smart battle dress (a gun crew I imagine) in a desert environment. It could have been, but wasn’t, the gun crew of which I was a member. In fact, although most of those faces are familiar to me, I can’t put a name to a single one of them! Well, it was a long time ago. The photo is dated January 1942 and my guess is that it was taken shortly after we had taken part in the capture of the German and Italian strongholds at Bardia and Wadi Halfaya (‘Hellfire Pass’). We were withdrawn to Sidi Barrani, well inside Egypt, and told that we were destined
for Palestine. It sounded too good to be true – and so it was! Far away in Tripolitania, Rommel’s reinforced Afrikakorps had counter-attacked in strength. We had had heavy tank losses. Our regiment was ordered back to Gazala where, after some six months of more-or-less continuous action, we were overwhelmed and captured at Tobruk.Those remarkable photographs transported me in memory across a continent, an ocean, and a time span of nearly seventy years to Wordsworth’s, ‘Old unhappy far-off things and battles long ago’.
Much ado about…….very little!
The Clacton Gazette’s headlines last week (5th January) could have been from the local newspaper at Hamelin before the Pied Piper put in an appearance. The Rat Pack - It’s ‘Christmas for vermin’ as rubbish uncollected for a fortnight piles up.
My word! Are rats running in packs in our streets? Ought we all to be vaccinated against Bubonic Plague? Hardly; it was simply because in those parts of our district that normally have a refuse and salvage collection on a Monday or Tuesday, one week’s collection was missed altogether and the following week the collection was a day later than usual. I live in an area that has a Tuesday collection so I know very well that there were extra filled black bags to deal with. I leave mine just inside my driveway but others are unable or unwilling to do that. Carelessly disposed black bags began to obstruct the pavements. Negotiating past them in a mobility scooter, or with a pram of wheelchair, became difficult.
But it was only for a few days. By 8.30 a.m. on Wednesday of the second week the piles of bags had vanished and the street and pavements were clear. There had been two public holidays on normal working days in Christmas week and one in the following week. I don’t think that either the council or the contractors should be criticised for the way that they dealt with the problem that those three ‘days off’ created.
They could have kept the collectors working, making the overtime payments to which they would have been entitled – but the council has been compelled by the government to save every penny and they would certainly have been told that those overtime payments weren’t essential. They could have put the collections back two days on the first week and back a further day on the second. That would have caused confusion. Few people would have known when their refuse and salvage would be collected. I think that in cutting out the collection completely for one week in part of the district (even though it is the part I live in!) was probably the right decision.
I was amused to see that, as I had forecast a week or so ago, a Government Minister of whom few people had previously heard, decided to take on the role of ‘a knight in shining armour’. He wrote to all local authorities (I wonder what that bit of self-publicity cost us?) urging them to adopt a ‘can do’ attitude and keep the wheels of the refuse vehicles turning. I wonder what he would have suggested – perhaps appealing for ‘big Society’ volunteers to clear the rubbish!
I think that Tendring Council, and their refuse collecting contractors, deserve our thanks and congratulations rather than hysterical criticism. The service kept going through the ice and snow, when collecting filled bags and carrying them across icy pavements must have been a hazardous business. Over Christmas and the New Year, no-one as far as I know, missed more than one weekly connection.
We should remember that, as a result of government spending cuts, a fortnightly refuse collection is a already a reality in many areas. Tendring Council has so far managed to avoid this. I hope they continue to do so. Waiting a fortnight for a collection, just once, and in the depth of winter is one thing. Having regularly to wait a fortnight in the heat of summer (imagine the piles of rubbish, the smells, the flies, the rats!) would really be something to grumble about!
Crisis? What Crisis?
I am not a great follower of either cricket or football. I’m mildly pleased when I note that Ipswich has won a football match (something that hasn’t happened recently!) and I found myself quite excited when the English Cricket Team retained ‘the ashes’ and won the recent test match series in Australia.
Making a contribution to this victory is said to have been the support of the ‘Barmy Army’ of between 15,000 and 20,000 British Cricket fans who religiously – one might almost say ‘obsessively’ – follow the test match team wherever it goes.
Good for them! But I find it difficult to believe that Britain can possibly be in such dire financial straits that public services have had to be cut, taxes like VAT that principally affect poorer people raised, and working people told that they’ll have to work harder for less money, when between 15.000 and 20,000 of us can spare the time and the money to travel half-way round the world to watch a series of cricket matches? I have been told that any fan who stayed in Australia for the six weeks of the test series could easily have spent £2,000 per week there!
Crisis? What Crisis? I reckon that for most of the Barmy Army the most serious crisis that they can envisage is one of England’s leading players twisting an ankle and being unfit to play!
A Happy Ending
I began this blog with pictures recalling ‘old, unhappy. far-off things and battles long ago’. Let me end it with a picture from happier times that I have just come across in a drawer. Taken in 1954, 12 years after those other pictures, it is of my late wife Heather with our first son, then a baby. Heather would have been 30 at the time and I would have been 32.
Those were happy days!
Those were happy days!
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