Troop Leader by Bill Bellamy

Author:Bill Bellamy [Bellamy, Bill]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: The History Press
Published: 2014-02-24T22:57:15+00:00

EIGHT

Holland and the Corridor

On the evening of 10 September, having been refuelled, we received orders to move up into Belgium, and we crossed the frontier on 11 September at a point between Menin and Courtral. The countryside of Belgium seemed ugly and flat after the lovely rolling pasture lands that we had seen on our way through France, the roads were straight, cobbled, and had a terrific camber which made tank driving very difficult as one tended to slide off to the side of the roads. The Belgian people received us with rapture and I shall never forget their noisy welcome. We were not the first British troops they had welcomed, but they all made us feel good. They handed out fruit and flowers to us, cheered and waved, and if we had to stop, rushed over to the tanks and tried to get on them and sit there waving to their friends and singing. We became ready targets for girls of all ages to kiss, but in common with most of the others, I soon found that as you were unable to be selective it was best to duck. We finished up in a harbour between Bavegem and Vlierzele, just outside Aalst, which is half way between Ghent and Brussels. A few of us went into the outskirts of Ghent that evening but there was still fighting going on in the area of the docks. Next day we went on to join the division at Malines and on 15 September were sent up to the famous Albert Canal. It all seemed to be very much a repeat of the First World War and my father would have been very much at home.

My troop was ordered to take up position on the canal bank overlooking a village, Grobbendonk, near the small town of Herenthals. We were to stop any enemy from crossing and to observe and report any movement. It all seemed very relaxed and, lulled into a false sense of security by our recent experiences, I was not as alert as usual. We drove in line ahead down the little road from Olen. There was a huge embankment along our side of the canal; this was about 40 feet high and completely blocked off the view. Instead of stopping, climbing the embankment and having a good look before proceeding, I decided to drive on to the point where the road turned north in order to inspect the bridge, which had been reported as blown. As we approached it, the road turned sharply to the right and passed through a deep cutting in the embankment. Before I had time to tell Chamberlain to stop, we were through the gap and poised, teetering on the edge of the wreckage of the blown bridge which ran down into the canal. Luckily I had halted the other two tanks of the troop, who by then were about 200 yards behind us and had had the good sense to stay under cover.

As I started

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