Sherman Crewman Frank Dennis Gent

[Enigma]

Got a photo of his Sherman model to post?

[haybaggerman]

Excellent stuff Paul, don't let a lack of replies put you off, it's your uncles stories are the thread, waffling from the rest of us adds little! I'm looking forwards to meeting him.

 

Thanks Adrian

 

He is looking forward to meeting you as well, me too.

 

Cheers

 

Paul

[haybaggerman]

Got a photo of his Sherman model to post?

 

Havn't got a photo yet, he thought he would like to bring it to A&E though.

[gazzaw]

Have been following this thread from the start and excellent stuff. Looking forward to hearing how it all goes with Adrians sherman etc and any photos and the like.

 

Keep up the good work

 

Gary

[haybaggerman]

Thanks for the comments gentlemen, I'm glad people are enjoying the storys.

 

MAY 1944 no surrender After the breakthrough at Montecassino our regiment was held in reserve until the Engineers had cleared the road, Highway 6, and replaced bridges. Several incidents happened which might be worth relating.

 

At dawn on the second day our tanks were in the front line and spaced out to repulse any counter-attacks. Visibility was only a few yards due to early morning mist and smoke from all the smoke shells which had been fired to cover the previous days attack on the monastery and the costly but successful attempt to get a Bailey bridge over the River Rapido. It was fairly quiet apart from a few shots and, as I needed the toilet, I grabbed a spade off the back of the tank and started walking away to find a private spot to squat. Suddenly, a voice from a tank close by said, “If you keep walking you’ll end up amongst the Germans there are lots of them close by”. So I went back to my own tank, dug my little hole and filled it in before climbing back into my co-driver’s seat. That voice maybe saved my life, for there were indeed German marksmen who had infiltrated our lines, in fact, had killed several tank commander's who had to stand with their head and shoulders out of the turret.

 

Later that morning after the Germans had been driven back, I went for a wander around the battlefield on my own. It was a shocking sight, bodies everywhere you looked, Allied, German, dozens and dozens of them. One in particular caught my attention. There was a stone built Italian shepherd’s hut, small and round with a doorway, but no windows. A few yards in front of it sprawled the massive body of a dead German paratrooper, face down. He was in full uniform, steel helmet and jackboots, and a giant of a man. As I looked at him I could visualise what had happened. Retreating, he saw the hut from which it was obvious there was no retreat or escape, and decided to make a last stand and inflict as many casualties as he could on the British. As witness to this there were so many khaki-uniformed bodies all round as they had tried to rush him. Eventually, the German realized his position was hopeless and charged out firing from the hip. He must have been riddled with bullets almost immediately and fell, still clutching his automatic rifle. It made me so sad to think of the incredible heroism which had been shown here, by both British and the German, none of it witnessed and so, obviously, no medals, although thoroughly deserved.

 

 

Cheers for now

 

Paul

[Jack]

Hi Paul - I have just uploaded some of this great story to FaceBook and the A&E Blog Keep it coming!

[haybaggerman]

No worries - where are you on facebook?

 

Paul

[Jack]

No worries - where are you on facebook?

 

Paul

 

- Jack Beckett - I am in there somewhere!

 

http://www.facebook.com/search/?flt=1&q=Jack%20Beckett&o=2048&sid=100000015894725.3329529184..1#!/profile.php?id=100000015894725&ref=search&sid=100000015894725.3329529184..1

[haybaggerman]

Got a photo of his Sherman model to post?

 

Yes, got a couple now. He also wrote about it in 2005, as follows:-

 

In October 1944 the seasonal torrential rains arrived and our tanks rapidly became bogged down in a sea of liquid mud churned up by the tracks several feet deep in places.

So we were pulled out of the front line and moved to Bagno in Ripoli, a suburb of Firenze, for winter months. The tank crews were billeted in farms scattered amongst the fields surrounding the school building which was our base. The front ground floor rooms were used as squadron HQ office and Quartermaster's stores and at the rear were the kitchens and mess hall. All upstairs rooms were for recreation with trestle tables, benches etc, where we could write home, read, play solo whist and just relax after six months of fighting and hard campaigning. It was a happy, carefree period, amongst friendly Italians and regular trips into the beautiful city of Firenze.

One day I noticed some of the fitters (mechanics) were making models. I was immediately interested. Tins, some quite large which had contained potatoes etc were retrieved from the dump at the back of the cookhouse. These were cut open and carefully flattened using the shears and tools for metalwork which all fitters had, and lent to me. I don't know who made the original plans but he was obviously very talented. I had been trained and was skilled as a driver/radio op, but knew nothing about metalwork. The fitters were really kind and tolerant and helped me every step of the way showing me how to mark out and cut the various shapes, how to beat them into panels and the various parts of a model sherman, and how to solder them together. Then they insisted I work alone with occasional words of advice, saying if I didn't it would be one of their models and not exclusively (well almost) my own.

 

The wheels and tracks, as you can see, were most difficult, each track plate having to be made individually involving hours and hours of tedious painstaking work.

 

The final touches the painting (genuine tank camouflage paint) signwriting squadron regimental and divisional insignia etc were easy and I repaid the fitters for their help by painting their models for them.

 

I made the mistake of sending my model home safely (I thought) packed in a wooden box, but it arrived at Manley Rd (home) quite badly damaged. After demob I was able to repair and make good all of the damage with the exception of the drivers hatch which had been quite badly bashed in and broken and missing aerials. There was no way I could get inside to push it back into shape so you'll just have to imagine it was struck a glancing blow by a German 88mm AP!

 

I think the signwriting was quite good considering that my brushes both for the models and squadron tanks were homemade. A tuft of bristles from a shaving brush (scrounged from the QM stores) were tied together with cotton and then fixed on the end of a stick. Sounds crude, but it worked very well as you can see and, of course, it was much easier on the big tanks.

 

 

My photos dont do it justice especially on the tracks. I think this model is special not only because of the workmanship, but also the story behind it.

[abn deuce]

Never seen anything like it ! quite a feat to do peace time let alone in a war zone where they could be back to the fight at anytime.

[Bazz]

Very intersting reading and pictures, nice to hear about tankcrewman who did it for real as i only ever did it in peacetime.

[Enigma]

I love the model tank!

[Toner]

Amazing work and stories. Also very humbling

[haybaggerman]

This is the last time I shall resurrect this thread. It has led up to A&E where my uncle is going to be reunited with a sherman and he is very much looking forward to it, infact, we all are. I think it is happening on sunday morning, which has yet to be fully arranged, but it is going to happen:)

 

Anyway, this is a story he kept private for a long time, for reasons you will understand, but now, after talking about his experiences he has given permission to publish, which has been done on a website set up for him at

 

http://www.frankdennisgent.com/

 

june 1944 No title for this one. Only two people have heard the following true story. My wife and our family doctor because it is not one I am proud of. My wife because we do not have any secrets, and our doctor because I asked his opinion as to whether the victim's bullet wound would have proved fatal or not. This unpleasant incident occurred in June 1944 (about the same time as "The Cherry Tree" story), after we had by-passed Rome. We had had a fairly rapid advance from Monte Cassino but were held up by determined German rearguard fighting. We were pinned down in undulating , open countryside, very exposed and far from ideal for our tanks. The sun was beating down and the metal too hot to touch as the crews inside perspired freely. We wore only thin shirts, trousers and light shoes but all were soaked by the sweat which ran down our faces and bodies. The squadron's tanks were spaced well apart but we dare not move as we were under observation by enemy artillery officer's who spotted the slightest movement and brought down salvoes of High Explosive shells. Also, we dare not leave the tanks or even put our head out of the hatch because German snipers were watching us (they killed three tank commander's at Cassino). So we spent the whole day from first light at 5am until dusk at 7pm suffering in the heat. It was my job as co-driver to brew up at intervals by boiling water on a small primus stove on my seat whilst I knelt on the floor in front with my face just above it. Very, very uncomfortable but the tea was welcome. As we dare not show our heads above the hatch you may wonder how we managed for toilet facilities? Well, we used one of the empty 75mm brass shell cases and then flung it, with contents, out of the tank! For the "other", we had accustomed ourselves to going during the hours of darkness. I never heard of a case of diarrhoea, thank God! We couldn't have a meal until we pulled back out of the front line for the night. In the laager (camp), we had to top up the fuel tanks and the ammunition racks for the 75mm and machine guns before we could ravenously devour the meal the cooks had brought up for us in the convoy of 3 ton trucks.

 

To get back to the story, it was inevitable in the day-long heavy bombardment that several tanks would be hit and we did suffer many casualties. Perhaps this partially explained but did not excuse what happened as we started to leave the battlefield. As we headed for a gap in the hedge, a figure suddenly rose up out of the ground in front of us, with his hands in the air. It was a German infantryman, obviously wanting to give himself up. As I looked at him I suddenly heard a gun firing and saw spurts of earth leaping up around the German's feet. He turned and tried to run as the gun kept firing. I was horrified and looked round to see who was trying to kill him. I could not believe it but it was our own sergeant tank-commander who was cold-bloodedly blazing away with a Thomson sub-machine gun. The rocking and rolling motion of the tank made it difficult to aim straight but then the soldier stumbled and fell. I couldn't belive my ears as the sergeant screamed at our driver to "Run over and kill the bastard"! The driver did drive right up to the prostrate German but stopped with the tracks hovering over him. I realized this was deliberate because the overhanging nose of the tank prevented him from being seen from the turret........ And certain death. Another tank in our troop had stopped alongside and, as I climbed out, the other co-driver did the same. Together we went to the wounded soldier and lifted him to his feet, draping his arms around our shoulders. We practically carried him, groaning with pain, through the gap. On the other side in the shelfter of the hedge was a long line of wounded Allied soldiers, infantrymen and tank crews. As we gently laid down the young German, who didn't look more than 18 or 19 years old, I noticed he was clutching his stomach. Grey intestines were oozing out between his fingers, as he desperately tried to hold them in. I realized then that one of the heavy ·45 bullets had hit him in the back and passed straight through. A medical orderly came up then so I asked him if there was much chance for the lad. He glanced down and said, disinterestedly, "He'll live". You can, perhaps, excuse the orderly who had seen so many of our boys die that he hadn't much time for a German. So Len (the other co-driver) and I, put some cigarette's in the poor lad's top pocket, looked at him again and then ran back to our tanks. I have always regretted that I never found out the boy's name and so have never been able to discover if he survived or not. What our sergeant did was dreadful and inexcusable and shocked the few who witnessed it. WE thought only the Germans, and not all of them, did things like that.

 

I have had nightmares ever since and, as I said at the beginning, I told the whole story to Dr Whiting, our G.P. and asked his frank and honest opinion. He said that, from what I had told him, the bullet had entered the man's back and exited through his stomach to the left of his spine and navel. If it had not seriously damaged any vital organs on the way, he thought there was a reasonable chance of survival. Not exactly reassuring but, at least, there was some hope. I wish I knew....................

 

I hope to meet a few other HMVF 'ers on Sunday and am looking forward to seeing all the vehicles. If you see my uncle do come up and say hi, I know he'd like to meet you.

 

Cheers for now

 

Paul

Edited June 16, 2010 by haybaggerman

[Enigma]

I'd be honored to see him and thank him for my freedom.

[Bodge Deep]

I'd be honored to see him and thank him for my freedom.

 

Me too

[haybaggerman]

I'd be honored to see him and thank him for my freedom.

 

and you did just that. Thankyou Enigma and good to meet you

Edited June 20, 2010 by haybaggerman

[haybaggerman]

Well, spoke to my uncle tonight, he had a day he said he will never forget. A big THANKYOU to Adrian for the tank ride, and also to others who took a genuine interest in asking questions and listening to recollections. As my uncle said, he was very surprised and moved that people were interested in what he had done, and that he wasn't just an old codger who no-one cares about.

 

Well done HMVF and thankyou

Edited June 20, 2010 by haybaggerman

[alan turner (RIP)]

bet he whipped up the side and into his position like a 19 year old.

[Tony B]

What MV's and the forum are all about. I hope he will honour us with more stories and recollections.

[abn deuce]

It was War and things happen , He has nothing to regret about the things that happened then . Given the unknowns of the day he acted very bravely to help move that soldier and could have him self been exposed to a possible German sniper .

I thank him for his service in the military to help win the war , I hope he never feels that others would not care about him or what hes done .It's been said before , " Let others walk a mile in someone elses shoes before they judge them" .

[Degsy]

He is definitely NOT 'an old codger that no one cares about' and he fully deserves the respect of every body in the free world.

[Adrian Barrell]

bet he whipped up the side and into his position like a 19 year old.

 

He certainly did and I suspect he got in quicker than I did......:blush:

 

I was very glad to meet him and give him a ride, it was an honour and was nothing compared to what he did for us.

 

Well done Paul for organising it and encouraging him to tell of his experiences. As we stopped after our little drive, Frank just looked into the distance for a few moments, I hope his thoughts were happy ones.

 

:bow:

[alan turner (RIP)]

Adrian thats what I used to notice when I was driving Firepowers Chevy Quad, 80 year old ex gunners Deaf as a post always got into the commanders seat quicker than I could get into the drivers and as for the grins on their faces afterwards, well it just made your day, especially when they were with screaming kids in the back.

[haybaggerman]

My uncle wrote a letter to his daughter regarding the A & E event.

 

"We were up early because Paul said he was coming for us at 8 o'clock. In the end it was just the three men. Mary had a bug and wasn't well and Lesley, (Paul's wife) hadn't had a good night with the kids so didn't come. I'm sure it wasn't good for Paul either but he certainly seemed fresh enough.........

 

So, we set off on the Sunday morning with blue skies and sunshine and it was pleasant for us three men to be able to natter together. It was a long journey to Dorset, nearly 100 miles, but the roads were quiet and it only took us 2 hours.......

 

After 3 or 4 wrong turns we met a farmer who directed us to the right track.... and it was a track! It was just earth and full of deep pot holes and would have been impassable to anything except a tractor (or, of course, a tank!) after rain. However, it was quite dry and we bounced along about 5 m.p.h. for at least a mile. It seemed deserted and then, suddenly, there was the field before us, with vehicles and tents where many owners had spent the night.

 

About half the trucks, armoured cars, motor bikes, etc. had already left, but there were 3 Sherman's and a Honey tank still there. One Sherman was on a low loader about to leave on a long journey to it's base, and another had broken down, but the third Sherman was O.K... We immediately started chatting with the owner, (I don't know his name, but I am sure Paul does), and he asked me if I'd like a drive round the fields. Of course I was delighted because that was really what I had come for more than anything else.

 

I was pleased that I had no difficulty climbing on to the hull of the Sherman and dropping down through the hatch into the co-drivers seat. I said 'no difficulty' but it was a snug fit and I would not have made it if I'd been any fatter! It's funny how your memory plays tricks because two things surprised me. First, the tank looked much bigger than the ones I was in, and second, when the owner started the engines ( I believe this was a Chrysler Multi-Bank petrol engine, five car engines all linked together), there was an earth shattering roar, far louder than I anticipated, indicating immense power. Which it was, of course, to enable it to throw around nearly 40 tons of steel at more than 30 m.p.h. I shudder to think of the petrol consumption. Probably gallons per mile and not miles per gallon!

 

What a thrill and what memories! There we were rolling and bounding around the fields, taking hills and ditches in our stride, just like the old days so long ago. Thank you, for arranging such a fantastic event to happen.

 

On our return other vehicle owners gathered round (including one all the way from the Netherlands and in full combat gear), firing questions at me and looking a me as if I were a member of a pre-historic species which, I suppose, I practically am. It was a wonderful and gratifying experience to be 'the centre of attention', asking me what it was like to fight in a Sherman and hanging on my every word completely engrossed. At the end, each and every one shook my hand or clapped me on the shoulder, and wished me luck. It certainly made me re-think my belief that all WWII veterans were clapped-out geriatric has-beens, whom nobody was interested in or cared about.

 

There is a lot of respect out there for us.

 

So, we climbed back into the car, to join all the vehicles going down to the village of Maiden Newton as the skies cleared. There were hundreds of people, many dressed in clothes from the 1940's, quite quaint, old fashioned (what did I expect?), also police, Fire Wardens, Home Guard, etc. Also, three young ladies made-up and dressed identically in navy and white polka dot frocks and seamed silk stockings. When somebody asked they said they were The Andrew Sisters. More memories. When our tank was not in action we used to tune in the radio to the American Forces Network so all the crew could listen to it on their headsets and hear all the popular U.S. hits.

 

There were food and drink and ice-cream stalls and lots of marquee's either selling or showing souvenirs and memorabilia, including every type of military equipment and uniforms. It was all quite fascinating. Next, most went to a sloping field overlooking a valley where there was to be staged a mock battle.

 

The weather was perfect as we sat on the dry warm grass, under a hot sun. The "battle" involved more than a hundred participants, all in German, British or American uniforms, as well as several armoured cars and half-tracks but, sadly, just the one Sherman. Never mind, they put on quite a good show with lots of crackling small arms fire and mortar bombs but, not surprisingly, it did not impress me when compared to the real thing! It would have been much more authentic if they'd used live ammunition instead of blanks!!

 

All the bodies littering the fields got up and walked away at the end.

 

By the way, there are no prizes for guessing who won! At least, all the kids, and there were a lot, loved it and although I think I was the only veteran there, many boys wore berets and when I asked, they said they were their Grandad's.

 

Well, that about sums it up. On the whole a most interesting, exciting and enjoyable weekend. Pity about the blanks though!!"

 

 

 

Thanks to everyone for making this day so special.