Extracts
from English Hartwright Reminiscences about life during
World War II 1939 -1945.
Recollections of what the War meant to a four year-old Worcester boy
and the stories his father told after the end of the War of his time in the R.A.S.C.
From Colin Hartwright’s Reminiscences
I imagine that for most people born in the first half of the twentieth century World War II produces most memories, not least because it involved nearly everyone regardless of whether they were in the services or not. One was required to “do one’s bit”. I was too young to really understand what was going on, but my first strong memory is of sitting on the living-room rug, crying and saying “Don’t go, Daddy”. Dad was sitting somewhat glumly in an armchair and Mum sitting at the table and I understand that was the day war was declared – there’s a cheerful start.
Reg and Colin at Warrenpoint
Carlingford Lough, Co. Down
……………. In 1939 both of my parents were at work, neither well paid, so to augment his wage Dad joined the Army Reserve. The drawback to this was that the Reserve would be called up immediately at the outbreak of War and this is of course what happened. So at the age of 34, somewhat old for a soldier, away he went. A dubious consolation was that they were told that as they were first in, they would be first out. Dad was in the RASC (Royal Army Service Corps) as a motor fitter and was eventually attached to H.Q. Fifth Division; known later as “The Globetrotters” (I was told “Gypsies”) because they were in almost every theatre of war except the Far East, though I don’t think that they were in North Africa either, except for Egypt.
For my mother, like very many other women during the War who had a child or children and no major wage earner, that period was very tough and because of the strange emphasis we put on things nowadays somewhat under appreciated.
It is a matter of record that the 5th Div were at the very sharp end at Dunkirk. [see The British 5th Division by Aris - 1959 p.46] Dad and another chap were working in the back of a truck when Monty stuck his head in and said “I should get out of here chaps, Jerry’s coming”. Dad eventually got to the beach I am told it was mostly over and there were only two boats available a large one and a small one. Strangely he was given a choice, his reply was to ask which one was leaving first. A promise was made that at war’s end they would be demobbed from Germany which indeed they were.
The Division was reformed in Scotland where it was to defend the North east coast until the Highland Div. was back to strength. Dad went to Auchterader where Mum and I joined him. The Div. then went into reserve in Cheshire and we went to Knutsford where I started school. I remember hearing the Blitz on Manchester. The 5th was sent to Ireland to counteract the expected influx of hordes of German paratroopers. We were billeted in Armagh where I attended the Armstrong School, I am left-handed and at this school they forced me to write right-handed.
Then Dad set out on his travels and we didn’t see him again for three or four years. He went to India in the troopship “Almanzero”, that was notorious for the conditions on board. On the way part of the Fifth liberated Madagascar, apparently fighting the French. They crossed India and back, then to Iraq and Persia and wintered in Qum. Then to Lebanon and Egypt. Dad was a keen cricketer and he played cricket on the Golan Heights in Palestine. One of the high spots of his war seems to be that he played cricket with Hedley Verity who was a Captain in the 5th. Dad also knew Ted Sagar, the famous Everton goalkeeper, therefore he was a strong Everton supporter as is his grandson Jonathan.
Christmas Greetings
From Egypt the 5th went to fight with Monty through Sicily where Dad missed the “official” crossing of the Straits of Messina due to illness and travelled up Italy in some style on a water bowser. The Division crossed Italy from East to West joining the Americans through Salerno and on to Anzio – as a "D-Day Dodger” – Dad made the “Beach-head News” as the owner of a racing beetle (Coleoptera not Volkswagen) named “Smokey Joe” which beat all comers including a strong challenge from the Yanks. They got their revenge later in the War by sitting on his camera. On the beach-head they were close enough to Jerry to hear them talking. One of Dad’s lot wandered into the German lines and they put him to work in the cookhouse, sending him back when they moved out. On another occasion Dad was put in charge of a German prisoner and was told to take him to H.Q. for questioning, where Jerry refused to give any information other than the necessary name and number. Dad was told to take him back and keep him at attention all night. When they came out of H.Q. Dad struck off in one direction Jerry in the opposite. After a discussion Jerry won and led Dad back to his (Dad’s) guardroom, Dad had been heading for the German lines! Dad told the prisoner about standing to attention and said he could sit down but should leap up if he heard anyone coming. Dad said the poor bloke was up and down like a yo-yo all night, he would have been more rested if he had “stood to” all the time.
They also had a prisoner whose one parent was English, but he lived in Germany and was a steward on a cross channel boat. He was very relieved to have been caught having been drafted into the German Army because his boat was in the wrong place at the start of the War. This chap offered to show Dad how to dismantle a Beretta pistol Dad had picked up from somewhere. Dad was a bit reluctant, but a Highland soldier produced a bayonet pointed out the excellence of its edge to the German and dad learnt how to take down his gun.
Dad’s next stop was Germany where he achieved fame as “The Exporter”, we got a constant stream of parcels from him. I understood there were supposed to be rules about that sort of thing, but I know that he used to mark the parcels “LOOT” and in they rolled. He had many tales about his travels but never a word about war or fighting and one got the impression that late in the war he regarded the German soldiers pretty well. He thought well of Monty - quite rightly - he had met him on at least two occasions other than Monty’s famous pep talks. When in the desert Monty had drawn up along side him and given him one of the packets of fags he handed out in their thousands. Dad also mentioned Brian Horrocks who had impressed him very much at Dunkirk. One of the minor ordeals one has to undergo in the services is a cursory medical inspection known as FFI (Free from Infection). At one of these Dad spread the rumour that FFI stood for Free Fag issue, with predictable results. He came home – from Germany as promised – via Hereford. Mum and I went over (in a taxi!) to see him for about ten minutes outside the barracks and the next day he came home. A day I can remember as well as the day he went.
