“Come on, toughen up,” said Eddie. “What would your mammy say if she could hear you?”
“Leave the poor lad alone, he’s frightened,” said a man from nearby, who was taking his mind off his own fear by playing a hand of cards with a couple of others. Eddie took no notice and hunkered down by the boy, who only looked to be about seventeen, a similar age to his youngest brother, and spoke to him gently.
“Look, don’t be afraid mate. You stay by me and I’ll see you’re all right. Get your gear and come over to sit with me and my pals for the journey. We’ll sing a few songs from Ireland and make you feel at home.”
The Channel had been smooth when they had first set out, but it soon got choppy as they sighted the French coast. The less hardy quailed as seasickness pangs began to sweep over them and many hung over the craft as they spewed up their stomach contents.
They were a sorry looking bunch as the Normandy beach loomed up ahead, a pleasant place to spend a holiday in peace time, but all that could be seen was barbed wire entanglements looped and trailing over the sandy shore, breached at the cost of the first invasion, and casualties waiting with the dead for ships to take them back home.
Eddie took in the situation at first glance and he moved fast, not waiting for the landing craft to move forward onto the beach. He jumped into waist deep cold water as soon as the board was let down, struggling to carry with him the collapsible bicycle he had been issued with. With his mates shouting that he’d get himself killed and that he was a bloody eejit resounding in his ears, he left the bike behind and took off up the beach because his life depended on it. He could hear the drone of a plane somewhere in the distance and he wasn’t about to wait like the others to be the subject of its aim.
Finding cover in a hole below a sand dune, which had been blasted out by a hand grenade but didn’t contain a body, he saw that the plane was a Lancaster carrying troops who were to be landed a few miles away. He looked back with relief, as his mates, who had waited until the craft hit shallow water, jumped off rather cautiously without even getting their socks wet!
Their sergeant, who had been speaking with an officer on the beach front, along with another group of soldiers that had their rifles trained on three men in German uniform who had their hands on their heads, explained whilst he sat astride his bike in front of the assembled men now standing by the wall waiting for further orders, that the captured men were German snipers. Apparently during the enemy’s onslaught only hours before, these snipers had used the cover of the empty and partially bombed out houses that lined the road to a small village and would be taken back to Britain to be incarcerated in a camp.
With mutters of, “I’d hang the buggers from that bloody tree,” and, “Bloody Jerries, they get to sit the war out in sodding comfort”, the men were put to work helping to put the dead and injured on the crafts on which they had just landed; a horrid job which made even the most hardened man in their platoon want to weep. When this was done, they got on their bikes and peddled along a narrow lane, except Eddie of course, whose bike had been carried out by a heavy swelling tide.
After an uneasy night, hidden in dug outs that they’d had to hastily dig themselves on a piece of wasteland that must have been an old rubbish tip judging by the various tins, bottles, pieces of rag and broken china that they kept digging up, the sergeant decided after all his men had been through they should get some rest, Eddie, who had an emergency ration pack with him, felt ravenous.
As they passed a field which an economical farmer had planted with alternative rows of corn and potatoes, he left his platoon, some who were peddling along the road at a slow pace as the bikes were quite small for a hefty man and others who had abandoned theirs and were ambling, and felt under the potato haulms for the small new crop. As he collected them, rubbing them with his camouflage netting to get them clean, he scraped them with his finger nails and filled up all his pockets so that he could have them cooked later.
It was a surprised Major who had arrived to regroup, whilst the men were gathering around the cook who had made a scanty meal at the roadside, with the potatoes as a supplement and was given a tasty morsel himself. Later, as he lined up the men, plainly delighted to see some of them that he had served with in earlier campaigns and had been briefed about the sad task they had had to perform on their landing, he was amazed when he got to the end of the line to find the man he thought the least likely to be standing there. He stopped short, disbelief showing in his face as he pumped the man’s hand. “My God, Dockerty, you made it!” he said. “Well done man, well done.”
Eddie felt a warm feeling growing inside him. He had been a most unwilling soldier since he had received his call up papers. He had found it had taken the utmost self-discipline to comply with all that the army had demanded of him and here he was being shaken by the hand by a fellow survivor. Eddie began to realise the true sense of comradeship which bound them all as one.
He smiled back at the Major, perhaps he had been rather good.
Many miles on, after many battles had been fought and won, the Major was still very thoughtful whenever his eyes rested on Eddie. He was heard to say on many occasions, “My God man, what makes you tick?”
As the Germans retreated inland and Captain Montgomery’s men, of which Eddie’s platoon was part, moved forward in their wake, they came to the village of Cambes, a place that was actually enclosed by two woods with ten feet walls around them, where they were told to halt as the place afforded some cover. The soldiers camped in a small copse close by, when food at that time, or rather the lack of it was presenting a very real problem.
Eddie and a lieutenant, who had recently joined up with them, went in search for food and luckily came across another platoon who were hiding out up a track that led towards a large forest. They were able to help out with a few tins of pork and a dozen eggs which the lieutenant loaded into his pockets.
The two men were making their way back towards the village when the enemy began to shell. Diving for cover, clutching his knapsack full of tins, Eddie managed to get behind a wall which had railings fixed above it and the lieutenant managed to throw himself into the nearest ditch, which luckily for him was a dry one. The shrapnel kept hitting the railings, giving Eddie some bad moments as he lay there, so when the shelling had subsided he quickly made his way to better shelter in a nearby wood, with the lieutenant rushing to join him. Eddie was about to ask the lieutenant what had happened to the eggs, as the cook began to fry the meat for the men’s suppers, when he recalled where the man had put them!
The order came later to attack the village, as it concealed many snipers who had hidden in there. The taking of it turned into a nightmare. The enemy had had time to establish themselves before the platoons arrived and had placed machine guns at strategic points, installed snipers with telescopic glasses and rifles that were strapped to the trees, ready to be set off in an instant.
It took two days of heavy fighting before any progress was made. They dug in deeply, although Eddie being a country man was chosen to go out on reconnaissance patrol at night time; being light on his feet he didn’t make any noise, but they were subject daily to constant shelling, which took its toll in lives.
They moved out of that place a few days later, having buried their dead and restored the village to peace again. Orders had arrived via messenger, which directed the men that were still left standing to reconvene at the army’s new headquarters.
The chateau, a large white impressive structure, no doubt once owned by minor French gentry who had been forced to give it up by their German conquerors, was situated at the bottom of a hill, which they had called ‘Hill 60’. It was a death trap for the men who had been ordered there, as there was constant shelling from the enemy who had the exact range of the place, as they had recently been in residence there.
The Major had been wounded and so had the stretcher bearers, so Eddie and another soldier volunteered to take them to a safer place. There was continuous firing, as the te
rrified party wended their way along a footpath through the garden at the back of the house, where the French owners fearing for their safety had built a type of Anderson shelter into the hill. Remembering the first aid from the army course which he had taken in his down time during his training in Scotland, Eddie was able to tend the wounded with proper care.
They began to lose three to five soldiers every day, dug in the lawns and woods around the property. The enemy was accurate with their shelling and nifty with their hand grenades and Eddie began to wonder, like every one of his comrades there, if their luck would hold out until tomorrow. His thoughts, before he tried to sleep each night, were of Irene and little Gina and if it hadn’t have been for the hope in his heart of seeing them once more, he didn’t think he could have made it.
A few days after the Major had been shot, when the enemy had perhaps gone quiet through lack of ammunition, a truck arrived and as many injured were loaded upon it as possible. There were still a few walking-wounded, but the driver handed the lieutenant orders that he was to lead the men in the direction of Caen, where they would be met by a senior command. They were to join a platoon from a tank regiment and would be advancing towards the city.
Eddie’s old soldier pals were to be diverted behind the lines and the younger soldiers were to be under the command of a new major. They worried for Eddie and every time the rations and ammunition were sent over, there would be an inquiry as to how their ‘boy soldier’ pal was faring.
Still on the outskirts of Caen, with nice houses in a prosperous area, Eddie rattled up on the front of one of the tanks that he had hitched a lift on. The tank stopped as a middle-aged Frenchwoman hailed them from her garden and the crew, forgetting that Eddie was sitting on the top, swung the turret around in case she was shielding a sniper. He was knocked to the ground and sat there dazed, as a senior officer, speaking in French, translated her words to the men. She was inviting them to join her for a glass of red wine and an apple each, wishing to celebrate their coming. Eddie was especially favoured after he had been dusted down and set to rights again, earning a large glass of ‘Vin du pays’ and getting a kiss as well.
Further on as they advanced into the city they were met with continual sniper fire, as the enemy had taken up advantageous positions from houses in the back streets. The lieutenant was shot in the shoulder and Eddie and another soldier dragged him to the nearest shelter, a roughly constructed bunker of wooden logs, which might have been used as an enemy observation post. Eddie was amazed to see a load of women’s handbags and wondered why they were there?
After Eddie had fixed up the lieutenant’s shoulder as skillfully as he could, the officer asked him to try to take word to the major that he had been wounded. He was to take the sergeant with him, a rifleman too, obviously for cover from any sniper fire. They set off at a pace and were preparing to run between the houses when Eddie, who was ahead, heard his companion shout for him to take cover, just as a bullet whizzed past his head! He worked his way around to the rear of the house and lobbed a grenade through the open window, thus making it safe for the pair of them to continue.
Moving closer to the centre, but becoming lost in the maze of streets, dangerous because every step could be their last if a sniper had his way, they met up with a French girl who spoke perfect English. Drawing them into a wooden shed at the bottom of somebody’s yard, she told them that she hadn’t seen any soldiers who wore their badges, but offered to take them to the Canadians, as she knew where they were. What could they do? She could have been offering to lure them to their deaths, there was no way of knowing, but they followed her anyway as she lead them through the gates of a large house to a rear garden, where they went through a gap in the hedge. Walking with the girl, Eddie took stock of her, wondering why she had no trace of a foreign accent, wearing a light blue summer dress, black stockings and a matching blue headscarf that hid the colour of her hair and he realised that she reminded him of Irene, who was the same height and build. He guessed that she was a member of the French underground known as the Maquis, as these were very active in helping the invasion troops.
She directed them to where the Canadians had established their headquarters, smiling as she left the soldiers, wishing them good luck. They were just in time to witness the Canadian Commanding officer, along with three of his men, chasing a German shepherd dog down the street. He was convinced that the dog was carrying messages to the enemy and it was certainly adept at dodging bullets as it ran.
The C.O. turned his attention to the raggedy appearance of the two British soldiers, who had suddenly appeared at the top of the narrow street, one wearing uniform trousers that were hanging in ribbons and holding a rifle butt that had been split in the middle from a bullet hole. They were taken to safety, that is, to another derelict building, this time with half its roof hanging off, but it gave respite and a new pair of trousers to Eddie, though both the men felt quite shaken by the turn of events.
The next day, Flags of Fighting France were hung out from the houses, as the people of Caen began to celebrate their liberation. Many homes lay in ruins, many fine buildings had been shattered, but the city was free again, but at the cost of many lives.
Eddie, now wearing a pair of British army issue trousers, as the Major wouldn’t allow him to wear the Canadian trousers, helped an elderly Frenchman who was pushing an apple barrow to collect the dead. It was also a day of sorrow and of trauma, especially when one of Eddie’s comrades was found and could only be identified by the chain with Our Lord’s picture hanging around his neck.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Before moving out of the city, Eddie and two soldiers were sent to check out a farmhouse, which was on the way to the next place where the enemy was said to be. The farmer wasn’t there, but his wife and two daughters looked terrified, when suddenly they were confronted by three uniformed men with rifles after the mother had timidly opened the door.
One of the daughters ran to the piano, which was sited in the open plan room at the side of the garden windows. She began to play her country’s national anthem, then followed on with the English one. Neither the soldiers nor the women knew a word of each other’s languages, so the resourceful girl was trying to use her music to communicate with them. Her mother offered them soup and they tried to reassure her that they meant her no harm, but they had to search the house and the outbuildings.
When it was time to move on again, the city was quiet and there was a fresh task ahead. The company were to march through farming country until they reached a river, where it was understood the enemy had dug in.
The weather was just the right kind for marching and Eddie wished that he hadn’t lost his bicycle. It would have been pleasant riding along the country lanes, as some of the men were doing. The farmers whom they passed along the way were friendly, willing to trade their Calvados for any cigarettes that were going. Eddie didn’t smoke, but was still allowed a ration as everyone else in his platoon were and really appreciated the apple brandy he was given in return.
He was also an early riser and would slip into a field to milk a cow. He got to like a morning drink of fresh milk laced with brandy, which set him up for the day. However, all good things come to an end, and when there was a bottle inspection he had to rinse his water bottle out with some Dettol that Irene had sent him to combat any infections. The officer gave him a suspicious look and after Eddie had hastily come up with a plausible reason, he was given a lecture on hygiene.
The enemy were established in a brick works some miles away. The weather began to get even warmer and the going got hard along the dusty roads. Towards evening they caught up with the company ahead of them and dug in for the night.
The next day proved to be a disaster for Eddie and his mates. They were taken completely by surprise when a German Tiger tank came swiftly down the track towards them. The lieutenant shouted to get the six pounder gun around quickly and a soldier had to lean on the flash eliminator of it to make the tripod legs come up. Eddie went
to the wheel of the gun to pull it around and the shield saved his life, as the shell from the tank hit the six pounder, killing all the soldiers around.
When Eddie picked himself up after lying dazed with shock, he found that all his mates but one were dead. One fellow, who was lying on his side, had just had his hair cut by Eddie only an hour before. The tank having done its evil work had reversed back up the track and disappeared from sight.
Eddie tried to pull himself together, though tears were coursing down his cheeks as he took in the pitiful scene. Looking around he found two survivors from the other platoon. One soldier, who was unhurt, was helping the other who had been wounded in the leg. Eddie recognised the wounded man as the officer’s bat man. The soldier who was unscathed, had ripped off the tapes from his gas cape and was making a tourniquet to put around the wounded soldier’s leg, and Eddie ran along a hedgerow to fetch help.
A bit further on in a clearing, he found the medical officer who was tending the wounded from a previous skirmish that the stretcher-bearers had recently brought in. Eddie gave him the news of the tank attack and the stretcher-bearers were dispatched along the track.
“You are wounded yourself,” said the M.O. quietly, who had been listening to the news from Eddie in grim silence. “You’ll need a dressing on that.”
Sure enough blood was oozing and staining his shirt, but Eddie hadn’t even noticed, he was still in shock. His Irish mates, those good simple men, some who had taken him under their wings, would be buried forever under foreign soil.
He wondered how much longer his own luck would hold out.
In the days that followed, as they moved on nearer to the brick works, then cleared out the enemy who were easily overcome, the lieutenant who had accompanied Eddie to find food lost his life. Then further on, another of his comrades was hit in the face by a spent bullet, which caused it to swell up like a balloon.
Eddie stood by him when a jeep, which was taking casualties off for medical attention, came by. It was full to capacity, but Eddie knew if the soldier’s face didn’t get seen to straight away there could be problems. He had to use strong arm tactics to persuade a soldier, whose injuries weren’t so bad, to vacate his seat and was rewarded a week later, when his comrade came back with his looks intact, except for the removal of a tooth.
Shattered Dreams Page 13