The Invasion of North Africa

Our uniform comprised army battle dress with a navy blue hat, ammunition pouches and webbing. The ‘Beachmaster’ was Lt. Commander RC Richardson of the Navy. I was his bodyguard and accompanied him everywhere. He was much respected by all. I carried a Tommy gun, revolver and commando knife. Each ‘Special Service Commando Brigade’ was divided into three troops of about 40 men.

We arrived off North Africa on the ‘Monarch of Bermuda’ at a place called Moda Zar Bir. They piped C Commando to muster on the boat deck while it was ‘black dark’. With our full kit, we lined up on deck and transferred to landing craft and headed for the shore. It was the 18^th October 1942 and the British Commandos, including Commando troops C1, 2 and 3 landed first, closely followed by the American Assault Troops.

The Germans (Rommel’s troops), were caught unawares by our arrival and only one shot was fired by our group in error. There was little or no opposition from the Axis forces at that time. We erected signs on the beach to separate and direct traffic with the objective of avoiding bottle necks and congestion. When this was done, we brought the US Assault troops ashore, while signalling their supporting vehicles to their designated routes across the beaches an    d on to the road network beyond. We then signalled for the heavy armaments but the first American vehicle ashore was their ‘Ice Cream & Coffee Pot’ vehicle! It came in very handy and I soon acquired a taste for hot dogs and coffee!

When the other armoured vehicles were ashore, we received a signal from an officer stating that a craft called a ‘Maracaibo’ was next. It was a shallow draught ship that had its bows cut and replaced by ramps. These craft were capable of carrying two LCMs (Mark 1) or 22 X 25 ton tanks or 18 X 30 ton tanks or 33 X 3 ton vehicles. There was also accommodation for 210 troops.

Such was the amount of traffic emerging from the interior, that it was easy to imagine half the American Army was aboard! There were tanks, bren gun carriers, heavy vehicles with big chains for clearing mines, etc. It was a marvellous craft! Having successfully disembarked all the troops and gear ashore, more battalions arrived on LCAs.

We were the only British forces to land there and we were instructed to stay on the beaches to keep them clear. The rest of the Allied troops proceeded inland, eventually pushing back Rommel’s troops towards the beaches, where they were sandwiched between Montgomery's forces in the east and Eisenhower's forces in the west. We remained on the beaches for about three weeks, after which we travelled to Alexandria by army trucks and then by train to Port Said. Around mid December 1942, we returned to Greenock on a Dutch ship and later transferred to Ardentinny Commando Camp for routine training. Meantime landing craft involved in the initial landings, were sent back to England to bring more troops.

The Sicily Landings

Around late June 1943, we travelled by train from Ardentinny to Liverpool and embarked on an LCA/troop carrier. The vessel carried 6 landing craft and 1000 troops. Each LCA could carry around 30 men, so each would make around 6 trips to disembark all the men onto the landing beach. The landing craft were on davits (like lifeboats on modern ships), ready to be lowered into the water at our final destination.

We headed south on a now familiar route across the Bay of Biscay. We called at Casablanca for a couple of days, but were not allowed ashore. After steaming west out of Casablanca for a couple of days, we turned about and entered the Mediterranean at Gibraltar. We linked up with around 20 big troop carriers and headed for Sicily.

It was early July 1943 when C3 commando were piped on deck at dawn. There was heavy gunfire from our big ships, all firing at targets on Sicily. Hundreds of gliders were coming in to land on the Sicily beaches, but sadly, some misjudged their landing zones and ended up in the sea.

We lined up into 3 sectors as before and climbed into our landing craft, approximately 30 men carrying small arms equipment. The next morning, at about 4 am, three LCAs were lowered with a Beach master and 6 ratings in each. The beach was about an hour away at about 3knots. We felt exposed and vulnerable and the time dragged. It seemed more like three days!. We beached, the ramp was lowered and we disembarked into the unknown. It was a nightmare but, in the event, not a single shot was fired at us in anger.

However, we could hear gunfire from German defensive positions inshore. It was not directed at us but we were in the line of fire as the Germans strafed the area with what was known as ‘rough gunfire'. With the last of the shells fired from our ships onto the landing beaches, we reconnoitred the beaches, rigged up lamps, and signalled the troops in, as we had been trained to do. A converted merchant ship beached and its bows opened up. We were amazed to see that a mobile coffee bar was first out so we put to one side for our break. Next out came the tanks, Bren gun carriers and other vehicles of war. This was our first taste of real action!

We did not have time to put up any signs, due to ‘rough gunfire, but we could see gliders coming in to land over our heads towards the back of the beaches. Some immediately came under enemy fire. We then did a further ‘recce’ at the back of the beaches to ensure the pathways off the beaches were clear and then signalled the next assault craft to disembark their human cargoes.

What happened next remains one of the most memorable and emotional events I witnessed during the war. Amidst all the hazardous activity, a Scottish regiment marched ashore in time to the bagpipes! It was a marvellous sight. The Germans were well aware of our presence as the piper led assault troops up the beaches toward the enemy. I was singing in my mind to the tunes they were playing. It really bucked everyone up.

We set them off on the correct roads and could hear the sound of incessant gunfire in their direction. When dawn broke, we could clearly see all the LCA carriers and troop ships, at anchor in the bay off our British sector. As our troops moved inland, things quietened down a bit but our ships were still shelling the shoreline while LCAs were coming in with fresh troops and going out with the injured. German planes came across and strafed the beaches with machine guns at regular intervals.

We took some Italian prisoners and put them to work digging a hole in the sand over which they placed armour plating to form our own air-raid shelter. Our troops built a compound to keep the prisoners in and we rounded them up (2/300 approx. on our beach alone) and were given responsibility to guard them. They were very docile and didn’t take much guarding. They were later transported by an LCA to a troop ship for an unknown destination.

We went swimming during daylight. The water was so clear that we could spin sixpenny coins out and then dive 6 metres to the sea bed to recover them. However, a week or so later, we saw floating dead bodies, some probably from crashed gliders, in the sea. That finished me with swimming there! At least half-a-dozen gliders crashed into the sea in our area alone. However, we couldn’t help them as the German planes were strafing the beaches and we had to take cover in our shelter.

Some of our troops returned to the landing beach after commandeering a train from a nearby railway line. They loaded it up with men, trucks and even tanks and steamed all the way to northern Sicily. It saved the invasion force a lot of time and effort.

Around this time, a Sikh troop came ashore to provide rearguard gun cover in case the enemy attacked us from the sea. They set up their Bofors (guns) in entrenched positions on the beaches, but in doing so, they became targets for over-flying German planes. One gun emplacement suffered a direct hit. What a gory mess was left behind. It made me physically sick at the time. Other Sikhs unceremoniously carried away the many body parts for burial near the beaches. This was the reality of war in the raw and the actions of these brave men should not be judged lightly by today's standards. It was a hell of a mess. There would have been about 8 men in the gun crew and two or three men carrying ammunition in from the nearby ammunition dump. They were all killed instantly and would not have suffered.

As the Allied forces drove the Germans inland and deprived them of landing strips, enemy planes disappeared from the skies in our area. The beach commander took the opportunity to order a tidy up of the beach which he described as a 'disgrace'. The troops had brought hard tack biscuits, billy cans etc. and some, not surprisingly, had been left behind as they moved across the beaches. He was just giving us something to do! He also ordered me to carry a shell from the beach and to place it on the seabed some distance away. Whether or not it was live was unclear to me but, since I'd received a direct order, I did his bidding.

As the days passed by, we spent our leisure time swimming, sunbathing and eating black grapes, which we had collected from nearby vineyards. We found out later that the vineyards had been booby trapped when tanks, with flailing heavy chains, were sent in to explode the devices. Apart from the danger of unexploded ordnance, we were at this time living an untroubled life of luxury, eating grapes and food from army trucks, full of rations, left on the beaches. In all, we were there about three weeks, by which time all the ships had gone except for hospital ships. We assisted in the transportation of injured troops from the beach to the hospital ships and prisoners kept coming in. Later, some of our troops returned and they were transported to troop ships by  LCAs for destinations unknown.

So, our beach commander signalled for a landing craft and eventually we went aboard a Landing Craft Tank, capable of carrying 3 or 4 tanks. We loaded our gear and all our sector climbed aboard to go to Grand Harbour, Valletta, Malta, into a hospital for recuperation! It was good grub, nice beds and lots of nurses looking after us. While in Malta, we travelled in old Leyland buses but, of the experience we said ‘the driver was mad and the roads were bad!'

There were about 40 of us commandos at the hospital in Malta, where we stayed for nearly a fortnight. We swam on lovely beaches every day, living like lords on holiday, sunbathing and eating regular American meals. Then we packed our bags and boarded an LCA for transport to a ship in Valetta's Grand Harbour for the journey to Port Said. From there, we travelled by train to Alexandria, a transit camp, where our kitbags and hammocks had been dumped. This camp was next door to King Farouk’s Palace, where we spent another relaxing week.

At last, we were on our way home on board HMS Monarch of Bermuda, a luxury liner in peacetime. After arriving back in the UK, we were given 14 days leave, after which we returned to HMS Armadillo for more training. From there, we went back to our base in Scotland. While I was based at HMS Copra, at Largs, Ayrshire, Scotland, my order for release from the Royal Navy was dated 5 December 1945,

Further Reading

Read about 45 RM Commando on the Normandy beaches on this website.

See the BBC Antiques Roadshow clip about 45 Royal Marine Commando Peter Thomas.

There are around 300 books listed on our 'Combined Operations Books' page. They, or any other books you know about, can be purchased on-line from the Advanced Book Exchange (ABE). Their search banner link, on our 'Books' page, checks the shelves of thousands of book shops world-wide. Just type in, or copy and paste the title of your choice, or use the 'keyword' box for book suggestions. There's no obligation to buy, no registration and no passwords.

Correspondence

Dear Geoff

My uncle, William Thomas Cousins served with No 8 Commando and then 41 Commando during the second world war. He left a letter about all of his experiences and training, including life as a POW, which I'm happy for you to share on your Combined Operations website if it's of interest. He undertook his initial training at Achnacarry in the Scottish Highlands near Fort William and was later billeted in Dundonald near Troon, Ayrshire to complete his arduous training. 

Regards

Paul Cousins

William Thomas Cousins – Royal Marines Commando

In June 1941 at Exton (Lympstone) Devon, I did six weeks basic training in squad 170. Our Sergeant was called Maker. This was followed by approximately 1 year under canvas at Dalditch, Devon, where we were formed into the 8th Battalion. Our officer was Jack Saltzberger. It was here volunteers for the Commandos were sought and the whole Battalion of 750 volunteered. In the event, only 500 men were required to form 41 Royal Marines Commando.

Several months later we started our Commando training at Achnacarry in Scotland. I'll not go into details as it was pretty horrendous. After completing this training, we were billeted in private houses on the Isle of Wight for several months of additional training and then dispatched to a badly bombed out site in West Ham (London) for hand to hand combat training, including the clearing of buildings. Many weeks later near Troon in Ayrshire, Scotland we were placed in private billets in a small village called Dundonald. Here we completed our Commando training. This was harder than the initial training at Achnacarry.

On the June 14, 1942, we paraded in embarkation order to board the ship, Durban Castle, at Gourock on the River Clyde and two weeks later we departed in convoy for an unknown destination. While at sea we were informed that we were to land on Sicily and Italy. About halfway through our journey we were joined by a huge fleet of American ships as far as the eye could see. Altogether there must have been over 200 ships. The rest of our journey was uneventful, no sub attacks and the weather and sea conditions were fine until the night before the landing on Sicily when a storm broke out that lasted right through to the morning. Our LCA were lowered into the sea waves of about 10/12 feet high. We were part of Operation Husky, which was launched on 9/10 July 1943.

We landed at Cape Passero and came under fire from a machine gun in a pillbox. Marine Ayres, a member of our platoon, stood up and rushed the pillbox firing his rifle, but was gunned down and killed before he reached half way. After this, another burst of gunfire came from the pillbox and my friend, who joined up with me, was killed beside me. It seemed I was living a charmed life.

Eventually the pillbox was taken with the capture of two Italian prisoners, whom I was detailed to look after. Later, Captain Cunningham, who was wounded in his arm, took the two prisoners and I reported to my unit. Following this landing, we raided Syracuse and Catania, after which we were given a period for rest and recuperation, while 41 RM Commando was re-kitted and replacements allocated.

On September 10, we landed in the bay of Salerno in daylight. All we could see from our bridgehead was a derelict town. We marched through the town and over a long viaduct into the surrounding hillside, where we started to come under heavy gunfire. We dug our slit trench high up in the hills amongst the trees. What we didn’t know at that time was that the Hermann Goering's Panzer Division was in this area and we were only 500 Commandos to hold them. Over the next few days, we came under very heavy gunfire, especially from their six barrelled mortars, which we named “Moaning Minnies” because of the whistling sound they made as they flew overhead.

We took a terrific beating and during one shelling marine Paddy Cuff was seriously injured. A little later our Commando unit withdrew leaving me behind to look after Marine Cuff. Before they returned to pick us up our position was overrun by the Germans and the two of us were taken prisoner.

We were taken behind the enemy lines where a young German soldier, who spoke very good English, said “Don’t worry Tommy, the war will be over in six months and then you will be able to return home as Germany is losing the war”. I was separated from my wounded colleague, locked up and given some food. I was transferred to Austria some months later when the War Office wrote to me asking about Paddy Cuff. I didn’t know and presumed he had died from his wounds.

After a couple of days, I was transported to a police prison cell in Rome, where I stayed for 4/5 days and then to another POW camp called PG66. It was manned by excitable Italians and held hundreds of British POWs. We stayed there until Italy capitulated to find the camp surrounded by German soldiers. A few days later a roll call with our meagre possessions was called, after which we were paraded, counted, formed up and marched out of the camp to the railway sidings at the local train station.

We embarked cattle wagons that held 50 prisoners to each truck. It was a tight fit with only a rusty old bucket in the corner for all our ablutions. The journey to our destination took about 5 days with only one stop each day for water, food and a little fresh air. The train pulled into a siding and we were formed in three ranks and marched to a prison camp approximately 15 minutes away. It was dark when we reached the camp and next morning after roll call, we discovered there were thousands of prisoners of war in the camp and that we were in Austria in a little place called SPITTAL AN DER DRAU.

A few weeks later to my great alarm, I woke up to find I was paralysed in the bottom left of my body. An Australian POW doctor arranged for me to be transferred to the prison hospital. This was a hut the same as those we slept in but turned into a hospital. By now, it was late December and after several tests and examinations, I was informed that I had rheumatic fever. I knew nothing about this illness and I asked the doctor if I would ever get the use of my legs back. He just grinned and said yes.

My treatment was two aspirin tablets, three times a day, followed by cold, wet compresses. After about a month, I was released from hospital and then taken to a hospital in Klagenfurt under armed guard for Xrays of my knees and tests on my heart. My knees showed some slight arthritis and my heart recording showed that I had a murmur in one of the valves. After being returned to the camp, the doctor told me I could not go on working parties for six months and to take it very easy.

It was now July 1943 and along with thirty or so other POWs, I was transferred to a recently opened camp called 2048L situated in a small country town called Schladming. The camp was small, just big enough for our group. We did nothing for several weeks but could see another camp, which housed with Russian women prisoners of war. We received much appreciated food parcels once a month from England and America. We liked the Yanks ones much better as they had everything in them.

Inevitably, a work regime was organised and one day at 8 am we marched to a rough, muddy area about 100 metres from the camp, where we met an old Austrian man with several lorry loads of the biggest stones or boulders I had ever seen. Our task was to break them in half with sledgehammers. We received basic instructions and learned the hard way the techniques that worked the best. Needless to say, we had some accidents when the hammer bounced off the rocks and hit our legs. Nearby, others were widening the track into a road with picks and hovels, whilst another work party broke our half boulders into rocks about the size of footballs. The rocks were to be placed into the new road, which was then some 200 metres long (approx) to form a base which was to be covered by small chipping from the boulders plus lorry loads of other chippings. This took several months and, although it was very hard work, most of us really enjoyed it.

During this period, we noticed that the women POWs in the nearby camp did not receive adequate amounts of food as the Germans were known to dislike the Russians. So, when we received our monthly food parcels, we each donated one item of our food to the women.

On one occasion we were all taken by truck to Innsbruck to clear up the mess after a German army train, loaded with ammo etc. for the front, was attacked and partly destroyed. Whilst we were doing this, two American planes, lightnings, strafed us, so we all took to the surrounding hills under cover of the trees. When that was over, we continued our work and then returned to our camp.

A few weeks later, about ten of us, selected to work on a farm, were taken by truck several kilometres outside the town. Our task was to widen the track that rose upwards to the farmhouse and then to make embankments each side of the track, finishing it with lengths of turf taken from a nearby field. After a month or so we were on friendly terms with the farmer and his wife. One day she asked me how old I was and what was my name. When I told her it was William, she looked at me in surprise as she told me her son’s name was Wilhelm and that he was a POW in an English camp. I was then the golden boy and before we returned to camp each evening from then on, she would slip me some potatoes or eggs when the guards weren't looking.

We did other clearing up jobs in Villach and Salzburg after they had been raided. By this time, it was near to Christmas , 1944 and we decided to make a brew to celebrate. We scrounged a big tin drum and part filled it with water adding all the ingredients we could find, such as potato peelings, onions, boot polish and sugar. This was placed next to our stove to aid fermentation. All was well for a couple of days when there was a terrific explosion early one morning. It sounded like a bombing raid but when the lights were switched on we discovered our brew had blown itself up!

Christmas was soon past and reports started to filter through that the Germans were being pushed back on all fronts. Our guards were really worried. Around March, we learned that the Russians were approaching Austria, so we transferred to Wolfsberg, which was nearer to the Allied front. One morning we found all the guards had run away during the night and in the afternoon we saw a convoy of lorries coming towards our camp. They stopped outside our main gates and got out of the trucks - it was the American Army. As you can imagine there was terrific cheering. For us the war was now really over. The Yanks recorded our details in preparation for a flight out of Austria.

The next morning, after a nice breakfast, we were all assembled on the parade ground and then broken into small groups. We were then transported by trucks to a nearby airfield, where 20 DC10 Dakota aircraft were waiting. We were in good spirits as we thought about going home to Blighty. It was late afternoon by the time we boarded the stripped out aircraft, which was just an empty fuselage.

After two to three hours flying, we landed at Reims in France, from where we were transported to a big transit area, fed and given a new uniform. The next morning we were interrogated again and our particulars recorded. We were given some French Francs to spend and made our way into the city. We toured around, had a meal and walked around until the evening, entering a bar to celebrate. We all got rip-roaring drunk. I couldn’t remember much after that but when I got back to camp the next afternoon I was alone and informed my flight to England had already gone!

A couple of days after, another group of us went to England in the bomb bays of a Lancaster. On landing at an aerodrome in either Surrey or Kent, we were deloused before entering a very large hangar, where rows and rows of tables were laid out with food and where many ex POWs were already feasting. I was then given a travel permit to make my way to Portsmouth by train to report in at the guardroom. A Corporal took me to an office where an Officer explained the procedures leading to my return home. He said I would be kitted out, then taken to a barracks after which I was to go to the mess, have a meal and the next day to the parade ground at eight am with other POWs and finally report to the office at midday for a travel warrant and money to make my way home on special leave. There I was to wait for a telegram telling when and where to report for duty.

By now it was September 1945, when two large army MPs turned up at our house. Having established I was Marine Cousins, they said they were sorry but had to take me in as a deserter, despite my protestations that I had never received a telegram to report for duty. I was taken to a Naval building in Whitehall and handed over to a naval rating, who placed me in a cell on the floor below with my kitbag. In the evening I was given a meal and told that I would be taken to Chatham barracks the next day.

On arrival at Chatham, I was marched in front of another officer, who asked me why I deserted. I told him I hadn’t received a telegram so thought I was still on special leave. A couple of days later I was marched back into the office to be told that all charges were being dropped. I stayed in Chatham barracks doing light duties (ie next to nothing) until I was demobbed on 29 December 1945.

Acknowledgements

45 Royal Marine Commando is based on the "Recollections of an Able Seaman - A record of the WWII experiences in the Royal Navy of Enos ‘Eddie’ Fellows" written by his son in law, Gerry D Brewis. The text that appears here was written by Geoff Slee for website presentation and approved by the author before publication.