With the Jocks by Peter White

Author:Peter White [White, Peter]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780750967075
Publisher: The History Press
Published: 2002-10-23T16:00:00+00:00

‘SWANNING’ ON THE

OTHER SIDE

News from the front during the wait, much of it pure rumour we suspected, was wildly encouraging. Certainly all sounds of fighting, but for one notable exception earlier on in our stay, had faded away into the distance. The exception had been a fierce attack, fortunately without casualties, by a Typhoon which had unleashed its load of rockets at the billet occupied by Battalion HQ of all places. Some pithy message must have awaited this luckless pilot on his return to base if Chris, our CO, was up to his usual form.

On the morning of 31 March, Smyg greeted me with ‘Get your kit, Pete, you’re off on another advance party.’ We had come under command of the famous ‘Desert Rats’ 7th Armoured Divison, to team up with them as motorised infantry and go ‘swanning’ after the enemy. It was pleasant to be on the move again and away from our charred billet. Time went quickly with so much to see and the knowledge that at least for a day or so we were unlikely to be involved in another attack made for the greater sweetness of the passing minute. I was most interested to try to spot the airborne landing area, but this was surprisingly difficult. I think most of the landings, but for shot down planes and strays, must have been a bit to our south, although we did see a few black, whale-like hulks of glider fuselage broken in the fields and some torn shreds of coloured supply parachutes trailing in an orchard. While in the area of Bellinghoven, several reports had reached us of airborne chaps being found in the neighbourhood hanging by their harness from the trees and shot to bits.

At times we wandered among quite peaceful surroundings on country roads, but always blighted at intervals by scenes of gruesome destruction by artillery, rockets or bombs. We were heading towards the north-east at a fair speed whenever the road surface permitted, via Werth and Bocholt (bombed to pieces), Rhede, Kardingholt, Borkenwirthe, Weseke, Sudlohn and Stadtlohn. I have never before, or since, seen places bombed to such obliteration as the last named three towns. The engineers had bulldozed a new road through the powdered rubble and bricks. On either side lay acres of rubble and earth rimmed with crater upon crater, the lips of the holes overlapping in continuous pattern.

Towards dusk, when about 35 miles ahead of the Battalion, we pulled off the road in the village of Gros Burloo and turned in to a large countrified estate which seemed part hospital and part monastery. At the gates stood one of our Cruiser tanks with the hatches open. A tiny hole in the armour indicated a hit by a panzerfaust. Inside, when we found time to look, was a mess of cut equipment and blood. The Rhine lay way behind us and although we were still only about 6 miles from the Dutch border to our west, Montgomery’s forecast about fast movement over the Rhine was so far encouragingly accurate and we had not yet caught up with the enemy.

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