[2002] SID’S WAR

0100 - Sidney Lane War Diary 11

[this is an extract of the war diary, 'An Ordinary War', by my uncle (Sid Lane, my mother's brother) which covers the period post-blitz]

21/5/41

It's getting quite difficult to keep up with the development of the war. Germany has invaded Yugoslavia in order to come to the assistance of Italy in Greece. This forced the Greeks to retire from Albania and ourselves to send troops to assist Greece. These troops had to come from Libya and the removal from this theatre of war allowed the Nazis to push us back to the Egyptian border. Meanwhile the troops in Greece were hopelessly outnumbered and another epic retreat and evacuation took place. We held the island of Crete and still do, though German paratroops are at the moment attacking. Then there is rebellion in Iraq. Syria, French territory, has been opened to the Nazi and the French are openly assisting in Germany's war effort. Strange to say, although there are sufficient reverses to make one depressed, I didn't feel it in the least. When I realised that France was out of the war and it was still not preventing us from holding our own end. Sitting back I felt assured that the outcome was inevitable - Germany would be defeated. Now reverses don't worry me as much, and I know our time will come. Evidence of a split in Germany is shown by the arrival in this country of Deputy Fuhrer Rudolph Hess who escaped from Germany by airplane.

Well all this is rather boring and I prefer to describe activities closer to home.

The sergeants' mess. Having at last gate-crashed that holy-of-holies I find army life definitely easier. At the present time, there are three G.L. ['gun laying', i.e. radar] No I's on this site, which means that we are by no means overworked. Eventually I shall be left alone, so until that time I'm taking full advantage of the liberties allowed to one of the greater striped variety. G.L. is no longer the racket it was. The powers that be have conveniently forgotten the very long night hours we worked during the winter. They contend that with the lighter nights and consequently short manning hours more is expected of us - well we shall see.

Of course I don't mind doing anything which has a direct bearing on the job in hand - viz bringing down enemy planes - but I do object to the incessant round of stupid, trivial duties with which the men are kept occupied during the day. This gun-site is mobile - that is the guns are mobile and the emplacements have been made by the men - as is usual on such a site. It took eight months to build and now the job is almost finished it has been decided that the site shall be static and permanent concrete pits shall be made. For eight months the men have worked, always the urgency of the job had prevented them from getting leave - and now - Well that's the army.

Not an organisation to be proud of and the more I think of the muddling way in which it carries on the more I marvel at the traditions set up by it. I have often heard people refer to the way we "muddle through" the last war, and now I know from nearly two years experience what this muddling means. We are just amateur soldiers, that's the trouble but anyway enthusiastic amateurs can be pretty formidable. Or is this wishful thinking.

24/6/41

The weather is glorious, just as it was last year at this time. we have only had one alarm during the past six weeks [the blitz on Liverpool had finished].

We have a new brigadier who is evidently more to be feared than the Germans. We now have B.H.Q. [Brigade Head Quarters] on the site and a consequential tightening up of rules and regulations is getting everybody disgruntled. I'm thoroughly "browned off" and clashes between myself and the officers are getting more and more frequent.

What a stupid, unreasonable person a junior officer is. My own experience proves about 5% to be efficient. The only thing I can say about the other 95% is that they excel in futility. Their best line is destructive criticism. Constructive ideas? Not intelligent enough to think of one.

[Sid, like many others in the army, had no time for officers. His disdain reached its peak when he later turned down a commission, because he didn’t want to mix with the officers. More generally, it led to the post-war Labour landside]

This incident is true:

Orderly Sgt., accompanying Captain on tour of inspection points out water tank in gas cleaning hut. "This is supposed to be used for decontamination purposes" he says pointing to two or three fish in a dead or dying condition on the surface of the water. Captain then orders the following notice to be placed over tank;

NO FISH

DEAD OR ALIVE TO

BE PLACED IN THIS

TANK

An hour later the notice is altered to read;

"NO FISH DEAD OR ALIVE TO BE TAKEN OUT OF THIS TANK"

It transpires that, as fishing stories are usually disbelieved, the junior subaltern has hit on the brilliant idea of keeping a private aquarium, in order to impress his brother officers with his prowess as an angler.

17/8/41 

I guess I could continue to elaborate on this subject:- the one-pipper - but time marches on. However I must tell this story as a contrast. It was told by the Major (O.B.S.) one night in the Sgts. mess. To use his own words. "I was entering the camp when I noticed the sentry marching towards me. He was obviously new and didn't know what to do. On seeing me he got panicky and finally presented arms while marching, and I thinking that such a quaint and unorthodox salute called for something original in return raised my hat."

22/8/41

My seven days leave being up I reported back at Meols [a sea-side village in the middle of the North-west facing shore of the Wirral peninsula, about 5 miles West of Birkenhead] where I have been stationed for the last four weeks.

It was good to be on leave and fortunately Harold [Sid's friend from before the war] had leave from the R.A.F. and we spent some time together. Together we visited Llandegla and away over the moors to World's End [their pre-war stamping grounds in North Wales.

Hiking in the Berwyns pre-war

I am again the proud possess of a motor bike. This time it is and O.K. Supreme 250 c.c. and it goes remarkably well. Previous to this I had an Aerial 250 c.c. which I quite rightly named the "Clatterbox". It was a beautiful machine to look at, but when you were riding it you could not rid yourself of the feeling that a cart laden with milk cans was immediately behind you. The O.K. is a good job and I had some pleasant rides during my leave. 

29/8/41

On returning I found that the Bty. was holding a sports meeting and that I was expected to enter a team. Our team was colossal and the performance remarkable.

Still we did our best and we had a good laugh. I felt rather pleased with myself on finding I had done the 440 yds. in 52 sec. and was able to clear 4'2" in the high jump.

Not bad for an old man, and believe me there are times when I feel really ancient.

- 29 years in November - Whew.

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