[2002] SID’S WAR

0027 - Sidney Lane War Diary 23

[this is an extract of the war diary, 'An Ordinary War', by my uncle (Sid Lane, my mother's brother) the landing on Sicily] 

28/9/43 

Written at Augusta [on the Eastern coast of Sicily]. It is about time I had a moment to spare to put on record my wanderings in Sicily. So far I have been hard pressed even to write home once a week, but now as I am taking my ease in the sick bay after a bout of fever the moment is propitious. 

The battery split up in Egypt two months before the invasion, which took place on July 10th. We had been training since April. And as each section finished they were sent to their concentration area. The guns had gone to Alex, rear party to base and the main party, including myself and the detachment, had just returned from a big exercise in the Gulf of Aquaba. 

On coming ashore I was told to get my men and equipment to Alex and catch L.S.T. 411 which had already sailed from Suez. Half way to Cairo I was overtaken by a certain Captain Webb. I remembered him perfectly. On the last exercise as the assault craft had touched down and the men started to charge up the beach, this gentleman who was also in the boat turned to me (being a good N.C.O. I was the last to leave the boat) and said "Sgt. stand by to push the boat off." The naval P.O. in charge looked at me and said "Who the bloody hell does he think you are - Sampson?" But Webb was already on the beach where he ran straight into a minefield and was adjudged by the umpires as killed. 

As I say, he overtook me on the road to Cairo and said I was to go ahead in his truck and make advance arrangements for the men. A fat lot of help he was, for on arrival at Alex he placed all the shipping documents in my hand and beat it. I never saw him again till after the landing. In two days we were in Alex. On the third day we water-proofed and on the fourth loaded and sailed. 

"Tripoli next stop" was the cry the moment we were at sea. We had a glorious week, just 21 of us, the rest were Tank Corps and good lads too - Mostly from Liverpool. In Tripoli we stayed a week in a concentration camp [the term had a very different meaning in those days!] marked "Convalescent Camp". The cry there being "Let me out - Let me out." 

Still, it wasn't bad and we had some splendid bathing. Back on board again the L.S.T. put to sea. This time we were told "This is the job - Sicily next stop" and that put an end to all the rumours. Now we knew where we were going. 

Then we started to fall in with the rest of the convoy. It was an amazing sight. Ships of all sizes. battleships, Cruisers, Destroyers, Liners, Freighters, LSTs, LCTs. The whole shooting match a very imposing and encouraging sight. The crossing took two days and three nights. On the third night the tank commanders, myself and the No1s were called together by the major of the tanks and given the dope. he gave me a terrific bundle of maps, remarking that as I would be wandering around for months before finding my unit I would need them. The remarks didn't worry me. I knew where I was going once I saw the map. 

[What he fails to mention was that during the crossing there was an enormous storm, one of the worst for years, so they were all sick. It was so bad that Sid later described how, as he watched the waves slam into the bow, he could see ripples run back across the steel deck from the force. He said the storm was by far the worst part of the landing!] 

We had breakfast at 4.30 a.m. and I was on deck before five. It was getting light and land could be dimly seen. Verey Lights were going up and there was a rumble of gunfire. 

The infantry had gone in at 2.00 a.m. We were scheduled to land three hours later, but because of the number of ships it was 7.00 a.m. before we beached. The time we spent below unchaining the vehicles and checking over the gear. One time, I did go on deck and saw 15 or so miles to the right that was standing inshore and taking a hell of a hammering from dive bombers. 163 and 166, our sister batteries which had sailed from Palestine were in that lot, and a devil of a time they had of it. 

I went to the head of the ramp and climbed on a bulldozer which was going ashore first. I had to contact the A.M.L.O. There was a bump, shudder and crunch as the ship touched down. The doors clanked open and the ramp went down - a twenty foot water gap. I groaned, as I thought of the old Rx and what would happen. The duck simply flew ashore and then we hit the water with the bulldozer. It was deeper than I thought - about 3 ft. I met our major on the shore and we stood talking, watching the tanks rumble out of the ship. 

It was distinctly awe-inspiring. 

Giant tanks (Shermans) waddling down out of the interior and down the ramp. The last tank stood by to give us assistance if we needed it. We did. Out came the Tx and was promptly bogged, though the G.T.V. was almost ashore. The Rx came next and stuck, but again the F.W.D. was on shore and the instruments only in 1'6" to 2'. The power unit gave up the ghost just on shore. 

Well we were - sort of - in Sicily. We sorted it out in the end, though the major made an ass and a nuisance of himself. 

All this time we were walking around with water up to our middle, but our eyes were busy. The beach amazed me. Ships being unloaded. Lorries pulled out of the muck. Men ambling round as though they owned the joint. No noise of gunfire. No airplanes. Nothing. It was a walk over. 

I was so busy I didn't notice the L.S.T. start to back offshore. The doors were not closed, which was too bad for the Tx which was still in the water. The side was crushed by the door and the whole thing nearly overturned. 

Well, we were soon in the assembly area cleaning the gear and hoping it would work (it didn't but that's another story), boiling tea, eating grapes and drinking wine, and generally sitting around smoking and enjoying the warm morning sun

We had arrived.

There it was. Nothing spectacular, but looking back now I can more fully appreciate what really happened. 

The convoy was guided in to Marzamime by a sonnet buoy (a buoy containing a local oscillator) which had been placed there by a submarine. Paratroops and infantry went in dead on time and captured the first objectives pretty quick. A glance at the map showed their first line. Incidentally, the maps we had were wonderfully accurate, full of amazing detail of gun positions, dispositions of troops, strong points etc., and all compiled by air-reconnaissance and intelligence - our agents had been ashore seemingly when they wished. 

Our infantry were the independent 231 Brigade - regulars - Hampstead, Devon and Dorset. By the time we landed they had taken their second objectives and everywhere the position was being consolidated for the night counter attack which we expected. The Navy had done a good job in the early hours of the morning, and the two deadly howitzer positions we had feared were out of action (I saw them later - what a mess).

The tanks with whom we crossed (15 Shermans) had orders to shell these from the beach and to give what support was necessary to the P.B.I. This not being needed, they pushed off to contact the next landing, up the coast at Avola - 20 miles further. 

We spent two hours in the assembly area trying to dry out the Tx slip rings. I knew we were in for trouble. Then we went to the gun position which had been RECCed and to which the gunners who had been disembarked troopship had gone. We found them feverishly digging the pits. Len Carr and I had our hands full and in this connection I must not forget Arthur Davies who helped considerably. In fact ever since I joined the outfit he has helped me more than he realises, with his steady mature counsel and it gives me some satisfaction to know I have helped him. 

We repaired the broken injector pipes of the diesel and left blowlamps in the slip ring compartment of the Tx. It was of no avail. The slip rings had to come out. It sounds easy but they weigh 1.5 cwt and we had to lie on our backs to do it, and to dig a pit under the Tx to lower them into. At last we got them out and found the trouble but were unable to repair it. We had to be in action at all costs. we put them back and it was then 4.00 p.m. and we'd had nothing to eat since 4 a.m. 

Then along comes that twit of a colonel and asks had I found the trouble. I must be in action before long. I said I would be. Then the fool looks knowingly at the barrage balloons over the ships in the harbour and suggested I could then have a balloon calibration before nightfall. 

I turned away in disgust. Why must these officers make such bloody fools of themselves. I didn't expect him to have any knowledge of my job and why should he try to make out he knew anything - Sheer stupidity. 

That night we fed the main supply (it was the bottom rings, main supply, which had gone) through the battered side of the cabin straight to the main fuse panel. This allowed only a traverse of 180 degrees. The Rx was OK, though operators first complained of a roving strobe on the Elevation tube. 

This had been rectified in a masterly way by Bdr. Harpen, for which I give Harry full marks. 

He disconnected the earthing anode of the consistent current valve in the guard potentiometer. This lifting of the virtual earth on the X plates of the C.R.T. remedied the fault which was a good thing, for though later we had the best brains of the island working on it no-one solved the mystery of the roving strobe and the unit was replaced.

Len and I were fagged out and after a hasty meal we got down in our blankets. The guns were not ashore and we were manning for G.O.R. The watch was set. The No1s knew the job and there was no need for me to interfere with them than the Colonel to interfere with me. 

We were bombed that night. The light Ack Ack did good work but by the time our guns were in, about 1.00 a.m., everything was quiet. About that time it dawned on me how to overcome our difficulties and we did it there and then. We disconnected the phone and sent the mains supply through those rings. How I cursed my stupidity at not thinking of it before. But now I was fully in action and ready for all comers. If we could last out the week we would be OK (Oh how we laughed) when our REME arrived bringing the slip ring we had pinched from the Marines together with other useful gadgets back at Kabrit. 

We were in that position for 72 hrs. and then we moved. The second night we did some really useful work but the old G.L. had certainly taken a chill in the water and its intermittent bouts of sickness certainly taxed us. That night the petrol dump across the road blew up and, while the Hawk and his Lt. played firemen with stupid little hand fire-extinguishers, the gunners showed real horse sense and saved hundreds of gallons by carrying untouched tins away from the blaze. 

On the night of the 13th. the hospital ship was sunk and scores of nursing staff were drowned. 

In our new position we had more trouble. Len Carr worked like a Trojan to keep us in action, and we did not sleep for 48 hrs. Unfortunately he was new to this work and, whereas now he is the finest radio mechanic ever and a great pal, such circuit diagrams as we had existed only in my head for we had been compelled to leave all secret stuff behind I thanked the Lord for the terrific training I had had and without boasting I really think it pulled us through, as it was three weeks before we got any kind of aid. 

On the 16th. we moved to Syracusa and our real work began. The details are hard to remember, but the pictures in my mind are colourful enough. 

The bamboo shelters we made, the grapes and wine, cornfields and mosquitoes. Sniper and the Jerry paratroop incident. The nightly fireworks. They were colossal barrages. The G.L. did some good work even if we did cause a Beaufighter to be added to our bag. I'll never forget the night the Ammo ship went up. We had to bury many bodies which were washed up and we were for ever picking up charred clothing on the site. 

We moved on to Priolo and then to Augusta. The August fireworks were admitted by Jerry as being the heaviest of the war. From Augusta I was sent to Marine Brigade on a MkIII course (Don't suppose I'll ever see MkIII). I got a distinction in the MkII exam and I had it in the bag for th MkIII, but the strain was too much and I passed out in the middle of the exam and was brought here (C.C.S.) with a temperature of 10g degrees and pretty near raving - Malaria.

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