Big ray

[Tony B]

Ray , that has given me shivers and , sorry keyboard blurring.

[Papav66]

Ray,

thanks for posting, some great tales here, but very moved & saddened by your last post.

[fesm_ndt]

so effectively we lost both of our parents in one go.

 

 

i can't remember now but I think it was during the first world war someone came up with the idea that you can join up together and fight together. At the time it was thought a good idea, mates together etc.... the problem was, and this is why I think it was ww1 was that the entire menfolk from a village could be wiped out in one battle.

 

Lest we forget

[Big ray]

i can't remember now but I think it was during the first world war someone came up with the idea that you can join up together and fight together. At the time it was thought a good idea, mates together etc.... the problem was, and this is why I think it was ww1 was that the entire menfolk from a village could be wiped out in one battle.

 

Lest we forget

 

Absolutely correct, and we do not know why they were together, his younger brother Harold was actually a private in the Shropshire Light Infantry, we can only assume that the two Regiments were fighting side by side? The only reason that we got so much information about their deaths was because another relative of our family, who served with the Royal Engineers, and had heard that the Sherwood Forrester`s were close by, had gone to visit my father, on his arrival at the company tent he was shown the two crosses leaning up against the wall of the tent, and told what had happened.:kissoncheek:

[Big ray]

Ray,

thanks for posting, some great tales here, but very moved & saddened by your last post.

 

We were in many ways very lucky, I used to stand on the back step of our home with my grandfather, and watch Manchester being bombed, my grandfather used to say, " Manchester are getting it again lad". They were the unlucky people, whole families wiped out.:kissoncheek:

[ashley]

i can't remember now but I think it was during the first world war someone came up with the idea that you can join up together and fight together. At the time it was thought a good idea, mates together etc.... the problem was, and this is why I think it was ww1 was that the entire menfolk from a village could be wiped out in one battle,

Lest we forget

 

These were known as Pals battalions i.e the Salford Pals (as basically they all knew one another wether they were neighbours/ workmates/brassband members/sunday leauge footballers etc etc) and as stated entire familys/streets/villages were decimated of menfolk, if i remember one family lost 10 immediately related menfolk during WW1

 

Soon after during the pre/2 World War period and afterwards local regiments never re-cruited in thier particular counties and as far as i know this is still the norm ?

 

Ashley

[Tony B]

Pal's Battalions came about as part of Kitcener's New Army. The mass 'Your Country Needs You poster campain. The result was many 'groups' such as sports clubs and factrory workers joined as groups and at the time had a choice of unit. The result was disasterous. The Jersey contingent, attached to the 7th Royal Irish Rifles lost 100 men out of 360. the Royal Gurnersey Rifles lost even more.

During world War Two the Royal Militia Island of Jersey went as a group just before the Occupation to join the parent regiment, The Hampshires. They became the 11th Battalion (RMI J) The Hampshire Regiment. The battalion became a holding battalion. They were not allowed to fight as a unit. As a concesion Jersey men wore the title Jersey under the Hampshire shoulder tab, and were allowed to transfer to combat units and keep their original cap badge.

[fesm_ndt]

Absolutely correct, and we do not know why they were together, his younger brother Harold was actually a private in the Shropshire Light Infantry, we can only assume that the two Regiments were fighting side by side? The only reason that we got so much information about their deaths was because another relative of our family, who served with the Royal Engineers, and had heard that the Sherwood Forrester`s were close by, had gone to visit my father, on his arrival at the company tent he was shown the two crosses leaning up against the wall of the tent, and told what had happened.:kissoncheek:

 

At least I guess there was some correct information or real information from your relative as the UK and commonwealth forces never really had the tenacity of the US about their soldiers i.e. everyone comes home ideal (not sure where that tradition comes from). The first Australian soldier killed in Vietnam was going to be buried in the closest commonwealth grave site in Malaya as the government at the time saw it as too expensive to bring back and it caused quite an up roar. I think now from memory he was the first conscripted. Oddly enough I have seen many of these war grave dug up and removed during my last 15 years in Asia.

 

I often wonder how folks of today would deal with drudging around in tranches for a few years with trench feet and all other assorted ailments. I did 8 years in the Army and never earnt my money

 

Your Grandfather's comments about Manchester getting bombed is another of those what if type things now i.e. people now having to endure.

 

"The gratitude of every home in our Island, in our Empire, and indeed throughout the world, except in the abodes of the guilty, goes out to the British airmen who, undaunted by odds, unwearied in their constant challenge and mortal danger, are turning the tide of the World War by their prowess and b~ their devotion. Never in the field of human conflict was so much owed by so many to so few. All hearts go out to the fighter pilots, whose brilliant actions we see with our own eyes day after day; but we must never forget that all the time, night after night, month after month, our bomber squadrons travel far into Germany, find their targets in the darkness by the highest navigational skill, aim their attacks, often under the heaviest fire, often with serious loss, with deliberate careful discrimination, and inflict shattering blows upon the whole of the technical and war-making structure of the Nazi power. On no part of the Royal Air Force does the weight of the war fall more heavily than on the daylight bombers, who will play an invaluable part in the case of invasion and whose unflinching zeal it has been necessary in the meanwhile on numerous occasions to restrain. "

 

"There we stood, alone. Did anyone want to give in? Were we down-hearted? The lights went out and the bombs came down. But every man, woman and child in the country had no thought of quitting the struggle. London can take it. So we came back after long months from the jaws of death, out of the mouth of hell, while all the world wondered. When shall the reputation and faith of this generation of English men and women fail? I say that in the long years to come not only will the people of this island but of the world, wherever the bird of freedom chirps in human hearts, look back to what we've done and they will say "do not despair, do not yield to violence and tyranny, march straightforward and die if need be-unconquered." Now we have emerged from one deadly struggle-a terrible foe has been cast on the ground and awaits our judgment and our mercy."

[Big ray]

Perhaps I should give a brief account of my time as a wartime school boy, an overriding memory is of complete darkness on winter night, absolutely no outside light being permitted, indeed any infringement of that rule carried serious penalties, we were glad when we had the moonlight to see by. I lived on the main route from the American army base to the town, so we were used to the sight of the G.Is. We would pester them by asking for sweets or gum, and if they were not being accompanied by local females, they were very generous, if however they had girls on their arm they would say "beat it kid". A lot of local people were very envious of the G.I.s with their money, smart uniforms and even smelling sweet. They really were a breath of fresh air around the place, young, smart and full of life, something that I suppose comes with a confidence that most people did not posses at that time, we had already had two years of wartime austerity and rationing. My grandfather being an ex- combatant of the 1914-18 conflict was non judgemental, and just said, " They are young boys a long way from home". There was lots of complaints suggesting that they were (US Troops) bragging about their own country, it did not help matters if they said that they had been trained at Fort Bragg, North Carolina. Well I have travelled and visited 15 of the continental states, and I know that everything that they said about their home land was quite true, so you see, perhaps we should all be a little more tollerant of each other............ maybe I should return now to my time in the army.....:kissoncheek:

[Adam Elsdon]

Keep it going, top stuff Ray!

[Tony B]

Ray, your childhood recolections are just as important! Fascinating mate, thanks for taking the time.

[abn deuce]

Feel free to ramble now and then , It's easier to write of things as you recall them at the time rather than trying to fit everything to a fixed timeline , and as Tony B . said "Ray, your childhood recollections are just as important! Fascinating mate, thanks for taking the time."

[Big ray]

I keep telling everyone that I cannot understand children of today complaining that they have nothing to do.... I keep saying that we had nothing to play with, we played football with a tin can. But on reflection, thats not quite true, we lived on a main north / south route, subsequently lots of military traffic often parked overnight on the local cattle market truck park. We had anything from damaged aircraft to a tank parked overnight, that was a magnet for us kids, we climbed all over everything, and sometimes managed to gain access to the cockpit of a planes fuselage, often seeing the damage inc mud and grass showing that they had belly landed. So in reality we probably had the best play things anywhere in the world........ what would kids give for those same opportunities now?? I remember on one occasion after very heavy rains that caused the local stream to flood, I was just messing about with one of my friends along the stream when I noticed a leather strap protruding above the now subsiding waters. My curiosity got the better of me and I found and used a small tree branch to retrieve the strap..... it turned out to be a shoulder holster, complete with a loaded Colt 45. I had already experienced a lot of my grandfathers anger over taking live ammunition home from our adventures on the cattle market lorry park, so I decided reluctantly to hand over my find to my friend, who took it home. When I asked what his father had said, he simply replied "Nothing, he just stuck it in the attic". Many,many years later when relating that story to my grandfather, he told me that someone had been murdered around that time, and that could have well been the weapon used. My then school friend died some years ago, and I have no idea what happened to the weapon.:kissoncheek:

[Big ray]

In 1946 my uncle Jack was discharged from the RAF. he had served in North Africa as a driver, he was part of a team that went into the dessert to retrieve downed aircraft, or salvage parts and destroy the remainder. Their little crew consisted of one officer and about six other ranks. He related many tales to me over the years, I wish that I had had the good sense to have recorded them. He was always very impressed with the ammount of war material that the US produced, both what he had seen in the UK and during his time in Africa.

He told me that most of the time they lived like nomads out in the dessert, looking very untidy and unshaven, but they did have to clean-up on returning to their base. He told me a story about running out of coffee whilst out on one of their tours, they were very near to a US supply depot, so the officer instructed Jack to approach the supply sergeant, he explained that they were out on a tour and had ran out of coffee, could they spare some. The sergeant replied "sure thing bud, follow me." Jack had anticipated a can of coffee, the sergeant threw him a 112lb sack!!!!! and there are many such tales. Once that Jack arrived home things changed for me, my grandfather was very much into psycology to achieve the desired result. An example of that would be when I used to earn my pocket money by looking after the horses that he owned. I would have to bed, feed and water the horses, in the 1940s very few stables would be equiped with electric lighting. Infact most would be like ours, oil lamps, now if you know anything about oil lamps, you will know that they flicker in the breeze. The flickering creates shadows, I was a young boy, it did not take much to frighten me. Feeding and bedding was no problem, all of that stuff was contained in the adjacent building......... the water was a different proposition, it was some 40mtrs away from the stables in total darkness. So I`m afraid that sometimes I ommitted to provide the water......... my grandfather would ask if I had completed all the required tasks, and I replied yes.... he would then go through each of my tasks and watch my response, when it came to water I must have been rather sheepish with my reply, and he surmised correctly that I had not watered the horses. His way of dealing with that was to say to me, sonny boy, if you want a drink, you just have to turn on the tap........ the horses cannot do that, they rely totally on you......... the net result of that was that I went back and watered the horses. I still miss my grandfather and his wisdom.:kissoncheek:

[abn deuce]

I look foreward to each article you post , It's a great fortune that you found the Forum and that you listened to me and the others who said write it post and they will read and LEARN ! More Please , Ray Sir !!

[Big ray]

I look foreward to each article you post , It's a great fortune that you found the Forum and that you listened to me and the others who said write it post and they will read and LEARN ! More Please , Ray Sir !!

Thank you for showing an interest in my ramblings. I have actually written a document covering my early life for my children to read, although they are not children anymore, we have a daughter 46 years old and a son 44 years old.... I realized a few years ago that many of my family had died, and I knew so little about their early life, so I thought that it might be a good idea to address that one where my own children were concerned. I hope that they find it interesting or at least informative.

Regards to everyone.:kissoncheek:

[lssah2025]

Welcome aboard...

[Big ray]

Welcome aboard...

Thank you.:kissoncheek:

[Big ray]

Our NAAFI canteen was situated on the third floor of the administration block, the block like all others in the camp was four floors high. The first floor was the central stores, the second floor was the nerve centre, containing the offices of the chief clerk and his staff, the offices of the 2nd IC, the C.O. and the sergeant major. The third floor was the canteen, we visited the canteen each weekday morning at 10am for refreshments. The spirral staircase, like the rest of the buildings was constructed with the best of building materials, it had a substantial wooden handrail, and tiled steps. Military boots, particularly those fitted with studs created a slow laboured clatter when ascending the stairs, and in contrast a somewhat light and almost musical clatter when descending, if I close my eyes I can recall the many times that we visited that floor. The fourth floor housed the recreation floor, staffed by an elderly lady (at least she seemed elderly at the time, I am sure that I am being unjust.) If you turned left at the top of the stairs you entered a room that contained all the comforts of home, easy soft furnishings, music, papers and magazines. If you turned right you entered the snooker / pool and darts room. The WVS lady usually sat knitting and generally acting like a surrogate mother. One evening in 1956, after returning from the top floor to our barrack room one of the guys in an adjacent room came rushing in, very excited and exclaiming that he had copied down the words of "Heartbreak Hotel"...... what is Heartbreak Hotel said I........ Elvis Presley said he........ who the hell is Elvis Presley said I.......... wonderful times.:kissoncheek:

[Big ray]

Whilst out on a NATO excercise in the summer of 1957 one of our guys was driving a K9 Austin truck, equivelant to a Dodge weapons carrier in size and capacity, when he was instructed to go to the field bakery and collect loaves of bread, his co-driver was a guy from the Liverpool area. They set off down the winding lanes of West Germany, collected their consignment of bread and proceded to make the return journey. The Austin K9 G.S. truck was well known to be very skittish on the back end, due in large part to the lack of weight on the rear axle. Peter C. the driver, a Sheffield lad, was obviously clattering along the lanes when he encountered a series of bumps in the narrow road, presumably the result of subsidence. According to the co-drivers report the truck bounced violently from axle to axle before going into a side slide, when Peter lost control completely and left the road, going through a hedge and down into the adjacent farmers field. At this point the truck was travelling side-on, and the inevitable happened, the truck rolled over, finishing up lying on its passenger side. The co-driver, whos name I cannot remember (not surprising, it was 53 years ago) climbed out through the gun capola in the roof, Peter climbed out through the driving door window. The co-driver was by this time sitting on the grass, looking at the wrecked truck, when he saw that Peter was o.k. and climbing out through the window. The bread was scattered over a very wide area of the field............ as Peter climbed out his first words to the co-driver were..... is the bread o.k........... funny what shock does to your order of priorities, the only injury sustained was Peters thumb, when he caught it on the steering wheel.:kissoncheek:

[Big ray]

Hi Paul, feel free to copy anything that I put on here (watch some of my spelling) I have these mental lapses over some words, it must be old age............. Lord knows why I miss spelt exercise on my last post!!!!!!!

I will get numbers at our next meeting for your June show.......... Tony and Rob have further expanded the diorama, with some nice little extra features.

Regards Ray.:kissoncheek:

[Big ray]

In the late summer of 1956 we mustered after lunch ready for dispersal down to the workshops, the m.t. sergeant taking the parade asked, can anyone ride a motorcycle?. After a few moments of no response I took one pace forward, you are advised in the military not to volunteer for anything, the sergeant pointed to a BSA M20 m/cycle at the side of our group. He instructed me to take the m/cycle down to the workshop area, that distance was only some 100m along a flat concrete roadway, being nineteen years old, and as fit has a butchers dog, I did not think that it was worth the effort to start the thing, so I pushed it off its stand and proceeded to push it, the sergeant soon bellowed after me, telling me that he had asked for someone who could ride the thing, any fool can push it, he bellowed. So I turned on the fuel, primed the carb, two turns using the decompression lever and with one kick she fired-up, and I rode the bike down to the workshops. The sergeant had followed me down immediately, he instructed me to keep the bike running, and he climbed onto the pillion seat. He said, take me around the camp, so I did, he then went into the m.t. office and returned with two helmets. I was then instructed to take him for a ride down into the town of Hamm, a distance of approximately one mile, this we did and then returned to the m.t. office, I was told to follow him inside, and he presented me with my army motorcycle driving licence, it was as quick and simple as that. I was now the only D.R. in the workshops, I was destined to have some very pleasant experiences as a D.R. more about them times later.:kissoncheek:

[abn deuce]

Pretty nice how that worked out !

 

A veteran I knew once told be of being assembled along a road at a military camp and the request was for those who were or wanted to be truck drivers to step foreward , a number did and were promtly told to grab a wheel barrow the rest of the unit to grab shovels and rakes and the entire group to commence re-graveling the camp roads !

[Big ray]

Pretty nice how that worked out !

 

A veteran I knew once told be of being assembled along a road at a military camp and the request was for those who were or wanted to be truck drivers to step foreward , a number did and were promtly told to grab a wheel barrow the rest of the unit to grab shovels and rakes and the entire group to commence re-graveling the camp roads !

Yes, its true to say that most experiences in the military would follow the lines that you have indicated. In my case they were obviously desperate for a motorcycle rider, however my duties as a D.R. were very much on a part time basis, as were most of my duties......... which will become very obvious as I continue with my posts.

(assuming that I am allowed to continue, and people show an interest in my ramblings.) :kissoncheek:

[Big ray]

On reciept of my motorcycle licence I was asked to sign for several motorcycles that were assigned to our workshops, only people with the appropriate licence could sign for and be responsible for a particular vehicle.

I objected vehomently, declaring that I thought it very unfare to expect that of me, however the m.t. sergeant assured me that I would not be held physically responsible for the maintenance or cleanliness of those machines........ I signed, and he was true to his word. I was only required to perform D.R. duties as and when needed. At first I would have to take paperwork to Steele House, Dusseldorf, this was the nerve centre of the British Army of the Rhine. On one of my runs to Steele House my motorcycle, an old tired WW2 BSA M20. The piston rings were obviously pretty well worn, and she was burning oil. I had reached Dusseldorf, it was raining and I was in heavy traffic slowly moving down a tree lined street, the excessive ticking over of the engine, and my lack of concentration due to the rain, the inevitable occured, the plug oiled-up and she stopped. I pushed the bike under the trees lining the street and cursed my stupidity for allowing it to happen. I did of course try several times to start the bike, without success. after about 20minutes a REME Scammell came driving along the road, I waved them down and asked if they had any tools. They were about to take the tools from the vehicle locker when one of the guys asked why I had not got any tools in the tool bag on the bike........ I looked, and produced the appropriate tool for the job.... They all stood and looked and said, are you sure your in the REME, you can imagine what a pratt I felt...They all climbed back into their truck, smiling from ear to ear.... just to rub it in. I have to confess, I did not report this incident to my buddies on my return!!!!:kissoncheek: