|
|
|
Information.
The Army Service Corps was formed in 1888 by an amalgamation of Commissariat and Transport Staff and Corps, whose history can be traced back to the formation of The
Corps of Waggoners in 1794. Royal was added to the title in 1918.
The role of the Royal Army Service Corps is the supply regiment, delivering all supplies including petrol, food and ammunition up to the front line.
In 1965 the RASC amalgamated with Transportation and Movement Control Service of the Royal Engineers, to form Royal Corps of Transport.
|
|
I just got my father's pay book, medals and some photographs from my Mum and I am keen to find out more about Dad's Service in the RASC in WWII in North Africa and Italy, he was Driver Glen Oram. Sadly Dad has now passed away without giving too much away. Any scrap however small would be appreciated
|
|
I have some memories of my father's RASC Days. He died 10 years ago and some of the details may be a little imprecise.
His name was George Derrick Hunt, often known as Dink. He joined in 1939 having been apprenticed to the grocers Kearley and Tong in Hythe, Kent. He was sent to France and travelled across France to be evacuated from St Nazaire in an Austin Seven pickup. He said it was the first time he'd had a rifle in his hands with a bullet up the spout, he never liked guns. He boarded the Lancastria and there is so much written about the tragedy. He said his life was saved by being on deck when it left port. It was the only fatherly advice he ever gave me. "Always be on deck when a ship leaves harbour, it saved my life". He remembered taking off his boots and throwing them overboard to cries of "Watch out". When the Lancastria sunk he was in the water for 4 hours before being picked up by a French fishing boat. He inhaled a lot of oil. He refused to be taken back to France and was transferred to a British destroyer and taken back to Portsmouth where he spent 6 months in hospital.
He then spent time in Egpyt and Ceylon. I have pictures of him on camels by the Pyramids and him on his service motorbike. He told me of going to the Temple of the Prophet's footprint in Candy.
In the meantime, my mother was flying Barrage Balloons over Tilbury Docks and living in Southwark.
After the war he joined NAAFI and audited Naval ships at Chatham, Garrisons at Dover and Deal and SHAPE HQ at Fontainbleau. He then went to Germany for a long time, in Celle and eventually Berlin where he retired. He never spoke very much about his war. The Lancastria obviously had had a tremendous impact on him I hate to think of the things he saw.
|
|
My father, Danny Hampton, a driver with the Royal Army Service Corps was involved in the war from 1942. He trained in southern England, Wales and Northern Ireland. On D Day he drove a DUKW on the Normandy beaches and moved through France into Belgium and the Netherlands arriving in Northern Germany. He was demobbed in 1947. He spoke of many people during his time on the continent, including Stan Jarrett, Les Attwood and "Dinger Bell". I have read a diary he wrote whilst he was in Belgium and Holland (around the Nijmegen area). If anyone remembers my Dad I'd love to hear more stories. Unfortunately he died a few years ago, but his memories live in me.
|
|
My Grandad, Bernard Lyde who has just celebrated his 91st birthday. He and my Nan, Margaret, have been married for over 66 years. Nan & Gramp have lived for nearly all their lives in Weymouth, Dorset. Gramp was called up and enlisted at Sutton-on-Trent on 27 June 1940. He spent the war in N Africa and Italy before being demobbed in January 1946.
This picture was taken in the North African desert in 1941/42 and is of 384 Company Royal Army Service Corps (RASC).
My Gramp is sat at the back on the left in the white vest. Gramp is especially keen to make contact with his mate, Bob Lee or his family. Bob is in the back row behind Staff Sergeant Skinner (in the peaked cap).
In late 1946 Bob was on holiday with his wife in Burton Bradstock, Dorset. Nan & Gramp met up with them in the Dove Inn at Burton Bradstock. Intending to keep in touch, Gramp made a note of Bob’s details on the back of a packet of cigarettes but subsequently lost it and they never made contact again. Gramp believes that Bob was originally from the London area.
It would be fantastic if Gramp heard from Bob, or any of the other lads in the photo.
|
|
I am trying to find information on Pte. Harry William May (my late father) who I believe became separated from his unit during the evacuation of Dunkirk and made his own way back to England. He may have been wounded or taken ill as I have a letter that was sent to him at Wooboton Infirmary, Newport, South Wales. The letter reads:
SUBJECT: B.E.F Personnel
42239 Pte. H.W. May
A.2 Block
Wooboton Infirmary
Newport
Mons.
Notification has just been received that you are at the above address.
In view of the fact that we thought you were missing, please write and let us know how you are progressing. Please also state what the possibilities are of you rejoining this unit in the future.
H.S.Davidson
Major R.A.S.C
Commanding 2 Corps Troops Supply Column
Baydon Farm Camp
Lambourn
11th July 1940
My father rarely spoke of these events, so it would be interesting to fill in the missing parts of his life. Any information would be useful in tracing his journey back from France.
|
|
My father, William Jenkins has always been
extraordinarily private about his wartime experinces, although he has always
conveyed to his children an exteme pride in the achievements of the RASC. He
joined the TA in 1938, after the Munich Crisis, was rescued from Brest after
Dunkirk and served throughout the North Africa campaign, then into Italy and
finally home in 1946. Throughout this time he served in the same unit as his
older brother, at one time even being demoted to do so.
Unfortunately he has lost all of his campaign medals and now, the twilight
of his years, this is causing him increasing consternation. Is there any
way that our family would be able to replace them for him before it is too
late? I would be grateful if someone could at least steer me in the right
direction.
UPDATE: Replacement Medals can be obtained from the the following websites :-
http://www.veteransagency.mod.uk/medals/replace.html or http://www.militaria.co.uk/bm_lists/replcmed.htm
|
|
Recently my father, Stan Rogers, now nearly 78, rediscovered some memorabilia he had brought back from Egypt in 1946 - a fantastic cigarette case and a trinket box made from scrap mess tins.
He had blagged his way into the army, being too young to legitamately enrol at the age of 17. He was sent to Egypt but arrived there I think, very near the end of the war. He spent some time getting supplies to the front line in a big lorry, then, in 1946, after the war, there was a big clean up operatrion in Egypt. He drove a breakdown truck, with a big winch on the back, around and through the Sinai desert in order to collect wrecks from the desert and take them to the Tel al Kabir vehicle-dump near Cairo.
Before the end of the war, German Prisoners of War were allowed to help but were not allowed out of the camp. When it ended, they began to be repatriated, but before they were given their instructions some were allowed to volunteer to help outside the camp in return for extra privileges. Stan, now 18, was assigned two POW's, Helmut and his friend (name not known), each of them around 30 - 35, and an Arab guide, Mahmood. Mahmood knew the desert and would sit in the back while the three sat in the cab.
It transpired that they were jewellers in their earlier life or something like it, and, to fill in their time, the two POW's had taken to creating items from old mess tins. As my father had treated the men with respect, and often bought cigarettes for them, when they left, they gave him the trinket box and cigarette case that they had made especially for him.
Stan Rogers regiment was the RASC (Royal Army Service Corp) and was based in Moasca barracks near the River Nile. He rembers his friend Norman Keep, who was about 19 or 20 then, and his Captain was Capt Paterson.
I would love to try and find these German men and get them to meet my father again.
|
|
My Dad, Ralph Allison Brown, served with the RASC in France and Egypt
Alix Brown.
|
|
Can anyone remember my grandfather Charles Alexander McQuillin (Driver) 286 Coy, R.A.S.C. ( Bluebirds ). He was a driving instructor at Ripley for the last two and a half years of the European WW2. He then went to Camp Amarea near Alexandria, Egypt as a driver until he demobbed near Crewe in 1946.
|
|
This account has been written from memory, about things which happened some 63 years ago. I had to report
to Staveley Drill Hall on the first of December 1939. On arrival I was issued with a pay book,
army number 121542 Royal Army Service Corps, a great coat, battledress, a kit bag, billy can,
knife, fork ,spoon, one blanket, two pairs of socks, two vests, two pairs of pants, two shirts
and a pair of boots. We were then taken to the Crown Hotel Clubroom. There we found a bale of
straw which each man used to fill his paliasse. About twenty of us slept on the floor here
and fed at the Drill Hall. There were about 200 men and only six of us could drive. A group of London Bus Drivers were brought
in to teach the learners whilst we who could drive had to do drills. After about a week we were
moved into civilian digs and this carried on until about the 20th December when we were moved to
Moreton In Marsh. On arrival we were given a paliasse to fill
with straw and we were to stay in a barn for the next few weeks.
The barn was approached by
a flight of brick steps on the outside of the building. Cows were mooing in the stalls below.
Our large room had no fire and was lit with two hurricane lamps. After about four days we
were given an injection which rendered our arms useless for days. It was at this point that
we were sent home for three days Christmas leave, having to report back on December 27th.
By this time it was snowing hard. Daily, we had to walk and drill, in the snow, returning to
our billet in the evening with clothes and boots which were wet through. We of course, had no heat
either to warm ourselves or dry out our sodden outfits. We slept in our boots, wearing our great
coat and covering ourselves with our one issue blanket. We never washed because the ablution block
was permanently frozen solid. At the United Dairies Depot men rigged up a tin shelter with some
showers. We had a shower each week, but just imagine emerging from washing and then going out
in six inches of snow.
In early February we were informed that some lorries were waiting for us in France. We boarded a
troop ship at Southampton and were transported to Le Havre. On arrival we found a row of wood fired
coppers on the quayside full of tins of Maconochie meat and vegetables.
Every man had a tin plus a Billy can of tea and a piece of bread. Then we were moved to an old mill at
Nantes , where again we slept on straw. There was a fleet of Bedford lorries waiting for us under the
trees in a park. The army took over a garage at the side of the River Erdre where we could maintain the
fleet. Many lads had only driven a few miles in England and were now sent out driving these lorries
in France!
Next came a few brief lessons in looking after the vehicles. One weekend they had to change the oil
in their lorries. I remember one lad filling his engine up with khaki paint which resulted in complete
engine seizure. A corporal with three lorries went into a village in northern France only to meet
up face to face with a lot of German soldiers. He was captured and remained a prisoner for most
of the war. (He came from my home town of Ilkeston and told me all about this after the war.)
We carried on our army life as normal. Being in the Service Corps our job was to take food and supplies to the infantry and artillery in Northern France. In May we moved out of Nantes and slept in the lorry body. In the day we seemed to be roaming aimlessly around northern France. In June we moved on into Normandy and on June 18th we were instructed to head for St Nazaire. Waiting to evacuate us was a large ship. On June 20th we were told to head for St Malo where a fishing boat was waiting for us. We made our way into the town and lined our lorries on the quayside. We put our lorries in gear and allowed them to go over the quay and into the water. We then boarded the fishing boat, a small craft where many of us were sitting on the sides. Under cover of darkness we left St Malo and arrived at Portsmouth at daybreak. These fishermen were brave men who left England to journey across the Channel to pick us up. The waters around here at this time were full of German U-boats and other enemy craft. The ship waiting at St Nazaire turned out to be the Liner Lancastria and was bombed by Dornier aircraft. Over 3000 men were killed making it the largest single catastrophe of the war.
On arrival at Portsmouth we were put on a train and taken to Matlock Bath. Our living quarters were the worst yet. It was a disused dance hall called 'the glasshouse' in the woods above Matlock Bath. Many of the glass windows were broken and so some men spent time patching up the holes with felt. This made the local bats and owls very unhappy because they were used to having the place to themselves. The toilet was a large outside open trench with a pole across on which to sit. The authorities expected the Germans to invade so we had frequent night guard duties of four hours off and two hours on. Imagine walking around in the lonely woods above Matlock at two o'clock in the morning carrying a rifle you had never fired!
After a couple of months in various billets at Matlock Bath we were moved into tents at Darley Dale. There we had a fleet of three ton Bedfords and three workshop vehicles. During the next few months we messed about route marching, map reading and even had a day at a rifle range.
At the beginning of December 1940 we were told one night to be ready to move on at first light. It was snowing hard as the drivers clambered into the cabs of their Bedford lorries. The cabs had windows but there were no heaters at this time. I drove a 1920 Thorneycroft six wheel breakdown truck which had a canvas hood, no windscreen and no doors. It was bitterly cold and I was just like a snowman as we journeyed for about eight hours all the way to Barrow in Furness. A corporal and myself were put in private digs for two weeks whilst our job was to load the lorries onto a boat. We then reported back to our unit who had moved to Brook Mill, a large disused mill at Kirkham near Preston. We spent Christmas there and early in the new year we boarded a troop ship at Barrow in Furness.
There was little to do on the boat and we just lay in our bunks or walked around in the limited space. As the days went by the weather got colder instead of warmer as we thought it should do. We had not been told where we were going but we had assumed that it was Egypt.. The boat's crew said we were just off Greenland. There were forty ships in our convoy and the German battleship Scharnhorst was somewhere in the North Sea. This ship was the pride of the German Fleet but was sunk by the British Navy in December 1943.After that we were now able to continue our journey until we reached Freetown after some twelve weeks at sea. We stayed in Freetown Harbour for a few days whilst stocking up with yellow fish. We ate this fish daily until we arrived at Durban. We left our ship, which I believe was called the Rangitata, and had to stay in tents on Durban racecourse. Our ships were required to evacuate troops from Crete.
About two weeks later we boarded another boat, possibly the Costa Rica, stocking up this time with tripe. Once again our diet consisted of the latest stock-up and we ate it daily until we arrived at Alexandria. The trip through the Red Sea was uneventful. However the Germans had sunk many ships in the Suez canal. We had to travel with care and at one point our boat nearly keeled over as we passed over one of these sunken ships. Finally after a journey lasting about twelve weeks we reached Alexandria.
We were sent to Tahag, a desert camp, by the Sweet Water Canal. The Canal had dead donkeys floating in it,
next to this men were bathing and women were filling their pitchers-all from the same water. Tahag was a large settlement which contained many troops. There were about six cinemas here which all belonged to the same man. They were wooden buildings with large wooden roofs which rolled back on iron runners so that the building could be cooled as necessary. After a few weeks we were sent to a Vehicle Reserve depot in the desert on the Suez Road outside Heliopolis. There our job was to check all lorries as they came from the docks. My job was to test these lorries and park them in groups of four. These groups were scattered over an area about three miles square so that they would be more difficult to bomb. One afternoon I parked a group of four lorries. The next morning I went to take the lorries for delivery to a unit. To my horror I discovered that the lorries had been stripped of their batteries, starters, dynamos, distributors and carburettors. I happened to be on guard duty that night with a mate but we didn't hear a thing. Two of us had walked around the three mile square during the night but with the area being so great and our numbers so few it had been an easy target for the local criminals. We were called up in front of the C.O. for questioning but we had nothing more to say. There must have been at least twenty people who said that no vehicles had come into the camp that night.
 Whilst staying here I went to the great Pyramid on my day off. It was a
marvellous experience as we entered the narrow passage to the room where the empty stone coffins were.
We also visited the Sphinx and the markets and mosques of Cairo.
After a couple of months we started our trek up the desert through the Hellfire (Halfaya) Pass into
Lybia.
We didn't see the coast road for months. At one stretch we didn't have a wash or shave for four or
five months. Our daily water ration was one bottle (a Quart). We had one mug of tea in the morning and one
at night. The rest of the day we had to survive with our bottle of warm water working all day in the hot
dusty desert.
Our lorries were transporting supplies from the railhead, which was at Mersa Matruh to various units.
Sometimes when a lorry broke down it could take some time to fix. The rest of the convoy would go on ahead so we then had to find our own way. If conditions were calm and there was no wind to disturb the convoy's wheel tracks we could follow easily. However if the sand had filled up the tracks it was sometimes difficult to find our way.
 We spent Christmas Day 1941 near Fort Merchili.
After Christmas we made our way to the coast road and on to Derna which was a fertile town. The Italians had left their houses and we moved in for a few days near to the football pitch. The Libyans had plenty of Italian jam to sell us. We lit a fire in the stoves and had a bath. The water at Derna was beautiful to drink. After a couple of weeks we moved to a wadi just outside Tobruk. The Italians had built bunkers with loose stone walls and put an old lorry body on the top for a roof. The hollow walls were full of desert rats who came out at night running across us as we slept. There was an Italian desalination plant at Tobruk so we had plenty of water although it still turned our Carnation milk sour. We didn't realise it, but this was to be our final camp.
Our lorries were once again carting supplies from the docks to units. I had to go to Cairo on the desert railway from Mersa Matruh to collect some lorries, which as things turned out didn't happen to be there. The steam train travelled along the track which wandered along through the desert. We travelled in freight wagons and after about half an hour the train came to a sudden halt. Two messerschmidts fired anti tank missiles straight through the engine boiler. There was steam everywhere . We quickly dismounted and lay on the floor. The two planes strafed us, flying so low that we could clearly see the pilots out the corner of our eyes, about the height of a railway truck. They came down the line twice and the bullets were hitting the sand all around us. Miraculously they didn't hit a man. When the attack was over and the planes had gone away we climbed back into the wagons. After about an hour another engine came along the track to move the train. However the Messerschmidts were back and again destroyed this engines boiler. As before, we lay on the sand as bullets hit the ground around us. Yet again when all was clear, we got in the wagons and waited. After dark another engine came and successfully pulled the train on to Cairo. We returned to Mersa Matruh and then on to the wadi at Tobruk.
On the morning of the 20th June 1942 we were ordered to take our vehicles to the bottom of the Wadi. As we looked up at the top of the escarpment we could see dozens of German soldiers. They began firing at us. Our officers told us to destroy our vehicles. We spiked the end of the petrol tanks with a pointed pick and as the fuel spurted out we threw a match into it. All the time we were doing this the Germans continued to fire at us. Our officers instructed us to take cover in the bunkers which we had slept in and make our way to the docks after dark to try and get on a boat.
We knew that escape by boat was impossible because the last hospital ship had left the day before with one of our drivers on board. His lorry had been loaded with small bombs and a Stuka scored a direct hit. The driver was hit by shrapnel as he fled from his bombed lorry. His name was Sisson and he came from Nottingham. Years after the war I met him working in a garage stores in Nottingham and heard about his escape.
Within about thirty minutes the Germans came down the Wadi shouting at the entrance of each bunker.
Occasionally they threw a grenade into a bunker. When they reached our bunker, which only contained
the two of us, I quickly came out to face them for I was not going to be blown to bits by a grenade.
I was followed by my companion, a boasting Yorkshire poacher who had entertained us with his previous
escapades with gamekeepers. At this however he was shaking and very pale. It didn't bother me because
I was happy to be alive. The German officer was a very young gentleman and spoke very good English.
We had expected to be captured because for the last few weeks the coast road had been full of non
stop traffic (guns, tanks and lorries) all making their way to El Alemain. By now most troops had cleared
out from the area but our small group had to stay behind captured because we were attached to a heavy
Anti Aircraft Regiment who were left to defend Tobruk.
We were taken in vehicles to a beach between Tobruk and Derna. This was a flat sandy plateau where we
stayed for a couple of days and nights. We just sat around in the sun all day unable to move anywhere.
During this time we had no food or water and we had burnt our food rations in the lorries.
We drank water from pools in holes dug by the Bedouins about 50 yards from the sea where they had
tried to obtain less salty water. These holes were full of camel dung which we had to push to one
side, quickly cup our hands and drink. The water was very salty and we had no choice but to keep
drinking the camel dung flavoured water. After a couple of days still without food, we were taken
to Derna by lorry driven by the Italians and put in a cemetery. This was the only place available
with a wall around it.
I spent my 23rd birthday lying between the graves in Derna cemetery. One good thing was that a water
tanker came daily with fresh water.
After two or three days with some food rations we were loaded into lorries. A four wheeled lorry pulled
two four wheeled open topped short sided trailers. As the mad Italian drivers went round the sharp
hairpin bends on the escarpments the front corners of the trailers touched the rear corner of the
lorries, causing them to keel over giving all of us compulsory travellers a nasty sensation. However
a worse journey was to follow.We arrived at Benghazi and were packed like sardines into the deep
hold of a large Italian supply ship. We were praying that none of our submarines would see this ship
because we did not know if we were carrying a white flag. We sailed to Brindisi, about a day's journey
and then we got into railway freight vans and travelled to a large new camp at Carpi in the Po Valley.
This journey took much longer as we travelled almost the full length of Italy. The camp was called PG73
and consisted of brick buildings with wooden bunks two-man high. There were plenty of good clean
washing facilities-large troughs with fresh cold water. We passed the time away walking around the perimeter fence. Our rations were one small bread roll and one bowl of soup each per day.
 When Red Cross food parcels were available they helped us a lot. Sometimes there was one parcel between
four or even six of us, One between two if we were lucky!
My friend Harry Brooks smoked a pipe so he had the two ounces of tobacco and I had the small bar of chocolate. Sometimes if no one wanted the tobacco you could exchange it for bread.
We idled our time away for what must have been a year until our troops were established in Southern Italy. Then we were moved by train in cattle trucks through Austria via the Brenner Pass to Northern Germany to Stalag 4B. The journey took a couple of days and we were given some rations to keep us going.
Stalag 4B, near Bitterfeld, was a large dirty camp, so many of us were sent each day to pick up rubbish
from around the camp. Some of our men were so weak that when they bent down to pick up the paper they fell to the floor. I stayed at Stalag 4B for about four or five weeks. Each day the German soldiers came round asking for volunteers to make work parties. I soon volunteered along with my friend Harry. About a hundred of us were sent to a factory at Zschornowitz. The work was very heavy, breaking hard stone ingots to go in a 9 inch crusher. I worked at this for a month or two but was then sent into the blacksmiths shop as a striker. This was much more interesting than stone breaking. We had to fire weld large chains with links of one inch thick iron. Due to an international agreement with the Red Cross we had to work the same hours as the German local work force .
We lived in two huts, each of which had a large stove in the middle, where we could keep warm when we were not working. We had two small bread rolls each day instead of one at the other camp, and the usual soup cooked by a man daily. Conditions were better here than in Stalag 4B, although the camp still responsible for us. Our huts were close to the factory and we were allowed a shower weekly. The factory was called Electrosmeltz (I may have spelt that incorrectly), and had an end product of emery powder and grinding wheels.
On 30th March 1945 we were moved to work in a large opencast site next to the factory even though we continued to live in the same two huts on the factory site. Here there were twenty feet thick seams of immature coal which when you walked on them seemed like sponge. Large excavators ran on four sets of railway lines with a line up the middle for a train to run on. Our job here was to keep following these machines and dragging the electric cables to and fro. When the trucks were full, the train would drive straight into the power station boiler house. We went to work on Friday April 13th and at 10-30 am we were sent back to camp and told to pack what few belongings we had. Some Red Cross parcels had just arrived so we divided them between us so we had a selection of food to take on the march with us. The Germans gave us a 2 kilogram loaf of black bread. On Saturday 14th April our working group of around a hundred men left Zschornowitz escorted by a few soldiers. The first day we walked 25 kilometres through woods and lanes arriving at a railway goods shed by 7-30pm. We slept there and the next day we were up at 6.00 am and walked about 16 kilometres more. We saw lots of strafing from American planes.
We again slept in a barn and were up at 6.00am leaving by 9.30 and heading for Schona where we arrived at 6.00pm. Yet again a barn was to be our resting place. The German people seemed to be going about their business as normal and were very friendly towards us. We saw the biggest strafing and bombing display by light bombers and fighters that day. On Tuesday 17th we got up at 6 and started walking by 9.00am. Through woods we walked for about 18 kilometres, eating what we could, and then slept in the open in a large dirty camp full of all nationalities. It seemed as if many groups of prisoners were being brought to this particular camp from the surrounding areas. The Russians arriving here were starving. All American , Serb and French prisoners were given a Red Cross parcel, We didn't have one because one had arrived at the factory camp before we left. There was a heavy bomber raid during the night. We remained in the camp for the 18th, 19th and 20th. On the 22nd April I saw the M.O. with severe stomach pains from eating raw potatoes. We were still at the camp and on the 23rd April we drew a ration meal of dried potatoes, tinned meat, sugar and jam. On Monday 23rd April at noon we were told to standby to move at 2 pm. Later we were informed that the Americans were at Vermar and the next day we would be moving into their lines. Tuesday 24th still saw us in the camp. Reveille sounded at 2.45am and we moved out at 5.00 am without an escort. The Russians left in the opposite direction with escorts. At 11.15am we reached Wurzen. The Americans had entered the town at 3.00am that morning. All the houses had white flags hanging outside in the streets. To get to the Americans we had to cross a very wide river on a railway bridge. The bridge however had been blown up and only one girder remained out of the water. The Americans were on the other side shouting through loud hailers for us all to cross the bridge. After crossing we were taken in a lorry about 10 miles to a billet with a bed and a stove. This was the American base depot of the 69th Infantry Division. We stayed in various camps over the next few days being moved by American lorries. On 28th April I sent a letter home telling everyone I was free. On May 2nd we at last caught a plane at 10:30, a Dakota and flew from Nuamberg to Brussels. The flight was not good as we kept hitting air pockets after arriving at 12:45 but not landing until 2pm.
The Belgian city was flattened and the roads were full of deep craters. We had a meal with white bread and were paid ten shillings and 800 Belgian francs. We walked around Brussels for a few hours. We were able to have a warm bath. On the 13th May we had a hearty breakfast with plenty of good tea and cakes. At 4.00 pm we were told to be ready to move off to a hostel. However after a walk around we returned at 7-45pm to find all our kit and souvenirs gone as some people had just cleared everything from the room. We moved to a hotel and slept between white sheets-the first time for many a year. However such luxury was only to last a few hours. Reveille was at 2.20am, breakfast at 2.45am on the 14th May. We left Brussels by train at 5.30am and arrived at Lille by 10.30am . We left Lille in a Lancaster at 4.30pm. We had to move forward into the bomb racks for landing because the Lancasters were not used to landing with so much weight still on them.
We landed at Horsham at 5.45pm and had a short ride to Guildford, where we drew £11, had all new kit and were told of our planned departure at 1.30 the next day.
On 16th May We drew a pass and ration cards for 42 days. We left Horsham station at 2.00pm and I arrived back home at 7.00pm.
I can still see my dad now walking across the living room to shake hands.
I had to report back to Oulton Park, a large army camp in Cheshire. We drilled for a few weeks then we were sent home for a month and then back to the camp again. This pattern continued many times until demob about a year later.
Thomas Edward Hopkins
|
I have been interested in the War for a long time. My Father often told me stories of what he did when he was in Palestine. (He died in July 2000) He once went to an army reunion but did not see anyone he knew, he was quite disappointed.
I am hopeful that someone will remember him. He was in the R.A.S.C. number S/144033 with the 8th Army in Palestine until about 1945. His name was John Little, he was 21 in 1939, married to Stella, they lived in South Norwood, London. Prior to going to Palestine, some of his training was done in North Walsham, Norfolk, and Herne Bay in Kent, and possibly in Hastings, Sussex.
For a time he was a medical orderly. (I believe after he had had his appendix removed). I do have an Egyptian newspaper cutting with a photo of him with other medical staff taken at this time.
I believe he also did administration work.
For a while he was seconded to a regiment(?) from New Zealand. He became friends with an Australian who gave him a wooden napkin ring for his daughter (me) who was born in July 1946.
He was a guard in Gilbert and Sullivan's "The Mikado" (presumably put on by soldiers) at the Cairo Royal Opera House.
He played piano in the officers' mess. He also played accordian and clarinet. He returned to England and was then sent to Norway. I never thought to ask why or for how long.
I hope there is someone who may remember. I feel that time is running out now and I am very sorry that I did not question him further. Thank you.
|
|
George Burton and Frank Sumsion joined the army on the 1st June 1944 for our 8 week basic training at Winston Bks. Lanark, then for 8 more weeks driver training, R.A.S.C. Hadrians Camp Carlisle. We then were posted to 611 coy. Welbeck College Worksop, Tranporting amunition, PoWs, Personnel,and other supplies. My best buddy Frank came from Bath, I George came from London, where we would sometimes spend our W/E. I got posted overseas with 21st. Army Group,seeing the end of the war in Europe, then to Nigeria West Africa, finally back to London, was with 20coy.MT.at Regents Pk. Bks. Where I drove C in Cs at the War Office untill demob in 52. Unknown to me Frank followed to our overseas posting depot,going on to serve in Palestine, then on to Kenya and Mombassa, arriving back in the UK. as a Sgt. Instructor at a training Batt. in Somerset, geting demobbed the same day in 52. We met again on the Internet before we realised we only live 20miles appart after two weeks short of 60yrs we met up George Burton
|
|
My father Alfred Elliott is trying to find out more about what happened to his brother Bill
who was in the RASC and was at Sandhurst. He said he won the OBE and believes he was in an airbourne unit in or around Arnhem.
Does anyone remember him?
|
|
I am helping my father who served in the RASC from 1940-1947. His name is
Charlie Corden. If anybody has any information please contact me. He especially
remembers Harry Vera and Freddie Mills
Rose
|
|
I urgently need your help in tracing, Robert Taylor, my husbands biological father. To help you understand the urgency of our position, and why our search is so late in commencing, please read the following.
It is less than one year since we have been made aware as to the name of my husbands father, at first we tried to gain further information through maternal family contacts, sadly, with very limited success, unfortunately they had all believed, we already knew about father, regrettably details regarding him had either been discarded or lost over the long period of intervening years, including a UK address provided by father, the only part of which they remembered; it was north of London somewhere in the middle. No notification of my husbands birth had been forwarded to Robert Taylor, my husbands father, due to relative's reticence, combined with their limited ability to communicate in English. Additional information provided; he was a transport driver, had a curved badge on his sleeve with the letters RASC. With another insignia not as clearly remembered but thought to be blue and gold. He was stationed in Roosendaal (The Netherlands) in a school in the Nieuwstraat, during / before and after the period of July 1945. Roosendaal was liberated by the Polar Bears in October 1944.
My husbands mother's maiden name was Dora van Iersel; my father met her through his friendship with my uncle Jan van Iersel. My husband was born in Breda, Holland, 19 April 1946 and registered as Robert van Iersel (name of his mother). Some years later his mother married and moved to Antwerp. He was given my stepfathers surname.
At the moment we are lost as to where or how to proceed. To trace Robert Taylor via a geographic search I require a starting point such as the address he provided to the maternal family. Any assistance you can provide will be greatly appreciated, as it is now fifty-nine years since my husbands father and his late mother met, fathers age and the possibility of ill health, alarms me as to the urgency of my search.
Kind regards Mia van Gestel
|
Photographs
RASC base Depot Boxing Team. 1943
My late father James Mackie Fowler served with the RASC in France and Egypt
and whilst in Egypt transferred to the Army Catering Corps. This attached photo
was found in an old album after he died and although he does not feature in
the photo I thought others might be interested if only because it
demonstrates that even in wartime some things went on as normal.
Jim Fowler
If you have any Photographs you would like to share please get in touch.
|
List of those who served.
If you have any names to add to this list, or any recollections or photos of those listed,
please get in touch.
|
|
If you have a story which you would like to share, or a website
dedicated to an airfield
or aircrew, please get in touch.
Send an E-mail to The Wartime Memories Project
|
Allied Forces Index
|
The Wartime Memories Project is a non profit organisation.
This website is run out of our own pockets and from donations made by visitors.
The popularity of the site means that it is far exceeding available resources.
If you are enjoying the site, please consider making a donation, however small
to help with the costs of keeping the site running.
Or by cheque to: PO Box 325, Stockton on Tees, TS20 1XL.
|
Website and ALL Material © Copyright MMII
- All Rights Reserved
|
Home
