9.3 To the Ardennes and back 17 Dec 1944 to 25 Jan 1945

The Broad Picture

On realizing the seriousness of the German thrust the Allied high command took several steps: divided the front into two commands, the northern under Monty and the southern under Bradley; halted Patton's eastward advance and turned it north to make a firm southern shoulder to hold the German advance; committed some of the theatre reserves to the battle.

On the northern flank of the German salient Monty moved immediately to defend Brussels and to establish a strong Recce line along the River Meuse from Charleroi in the west to Vise in the east. The formation charged with this task was XXX Corps, which comprised 43, 51, 53 Infantry Divisions and the Guards Armoured Division, supported by 29 and 34 Armoured Brigades. This defensive position was established on 20 Dec. By 23 Dec it was clear that due to determined fighting by the Americans, the clearing of the weather which at last allowed allied air forces to strike, and supply difficulties for Germans, the push had been contained. It was now possible for the counter-attack formations to move south of the River Meuse and thus allow the American formations on the north and south of the salient, and the British XXX Corps at the western end, to push the Germans back harder.

The process continued steadily until by 16 Jan 1945 the 1st and 3rd US Armies made contact at Houffalize. By this time it was possible for XXX Corps to disengage and return to the north to plan for the next operation, code-named "Veritable".

For the 9th these large-scale movements meant that:

• after withdrawal from the Geilenkirchen area it became part of the defensive screen of Brussels and the River Meuse

• when that danger had subsided, the Battalion moved south of Liege to act in a counter-attack role

• as the German forces slowed down and finally retreated the Battalion remained in that counter-attack position

• when XXX Corps moved north to prepare for Operation Veritable, the 9th did the same.

It should also be said that in the first few days there was some uncertainty as to where we would go next. Since this period included Christmas Day, the odds seemed against tradition being observable. But ingenuity and organization triumphed against adversity, and everybody had an excellent Christmas Dinner – some people more than one.

The War Diary 16 Dec 1944 - 25 Jan 1945

On Dec 16 news was received of the German counter-offensive against 1st US Army front, attacking with the 5th and 6th Panzer Armies.

Owing to the dropping of parachutists the guards were far more alert and even those supplied by "A" Echelon were known to be aggressive. Enemy air activity increased both during the day and night and shelling became more frequent. Finally, orders were received that 34 Tank Brigade with 43 Division were to be withdrawn and go to the area of Tilburg to undergo special training for future operations. On 19 Dec the Battalion's role was handed over to No. 2 Squadron Grenadier Guards and the tanks set off on a road march to Waterscheide where they were to be picked up by transporters. BHQ moved back to Brunssum, complete with new furniture, to join the wheels column which was to leave at 0630 hours the following morning.

The road march was made in thick fog and a number of wheels of the leading regiments were passed ditched by the side of the road.

After a few miles, the column was stopped and informed that the Brigade would now concentrate in the area Asch and there await further orders. It was appreciated that the German counter-offensive might develop unpleasantly. 30 Corps moved south and established itself on the west of the River Meuse in mobile reserve. The task given to 34 Tank Brigade and 43 Division was to destroy any bridge-heads made by the enemy between Huy and Liege. The Battalion was to support 214 Brigade in these possible operations.

By the night of 20 Dec the Battalion had established itself in Bilsen and it was there, a day later, that confirmation was received that the award of the M.C. had been granted to Lt. Tom Fawcett and Lt. Freddie Critchley for personal bravery and devotion to duty during operations around Boeink and Nispen. 13 Troop were proud to claim MM's awarded to Sgt. Tomney, and Tpr. Rees, and C Sqn HQ Troop the MM awarded to Tpr. Lowe during the same series of operations.

The possibility of Xmas celebration seemed remote though various greetings were received from old friends of the Regiment, the most subtle and attractive being from our original Brigade HQ, 31 Tank Brigade.

On 23 Dec, the German offensive looked less dangerous and the Battalion was placed at 3 hours' notice – there were also rumours that Xmas would be celebrated and these were proved true the following day. In consequence the Battalion decided to move to more comfortable billets but owing to unforeseen difficulties and a number of false starts, the move was not completed until mid-day of Xmas Day. Nevertheless, there was time to lay on the traditional meal by the evening.

But, during the afternoon, a warning order had been received whereby the Battalion would be ready to move by 0700 hours the next day and the C.O. was informed that he would report to 51 (H) Division at Tilff that night – a poor sequel to the cancellation of his special leave that was to cover the Xmas period. A Christmas meal was thus the only celebration and the only amusement was caused by Capt. Lord appearing with a broken nose after he had lost a wheel from his Scout car. This was considered amusing only as a sequel to his summer escapade when he had tried to drive across a bridge that the retreating Germans had unkindly blown.

On Boxing Day the Battalion was detached from 34 Tank Brigade and came under command 51 (H) Division in reserve to the First American Army and after another difficult road march in thick fog concentrated in Ougree, south of Liege. It was here that the Battalion had its first experience of flying bombs. They were heard chugging in the skies at frequent intervals and though some fell unpleasantly close, destroying billets, there were no casualties.

Here the Division Commander visited the Battalion and suggested an alternative concentration area be found.

On 28 Dec the Battalion moved again and established in the small village of Villers Aux Tours and there saw out the last day of 1944 surrounded by ice-frozen roads and snow-white fields. The inhabitants were glad to see British troops again and were generous in their welcome, while the Battalion waited to strike against any enemy penetrations that might be made from the east or south. Meanwhile, A Echelon remained at Seraing, a southern suburb of Liege, somewhat piqued it is said at being likened to the processionary caterpillars which the French Naturalist, Fabre, claimed marched in a continuous circle in a head-to-tail snake-like string for a week around the edge of a large vase despite the tempting offers of food. In fairness, however, it must be stated that in road marches alone they had covered about 150 miles during the month.

1 Jan 1945

The New Year arrived and it is believed that a few got drunk but other than that there were no changes.

It was obvious now that the German counter-offensive had lost the initiative and it would only be a question of weeks before they would be retreating once again behind the Siegfried Line. The operational role of the Regiment with 51 (H) Division began to lose it significance. The days when maps had been studied and routes reccied had passed and the concern now was to frustrate boredom that might have threatened the Regiment isolated in this small but hospitable village.

Some began tobogganing and others, with the guidance of local gamekeepers, ploughed through the snow and forests in search of the renowned boar. No one, however, proved themselves expert at this kind of hunting and the Recce Troop were no more successful when they went off one night in search of two Germans in American uniform reported by civilians to be roaming the wood and having in their possession a map of Liege.

On 7 Jan 51 (Highland) Division began to move south into the area of Rochefort. The 9th, however, remained where it was and came under command 53 (Welsh) Division, with whom we had lost touch since training days in England.

On 8 Jan, XII Corps, who had taken over the previous role of 30 Corps, began their attack designed to clear the enemy bridge-head over River Roer between Roermond and Geilenkirchen. It was appreciated that Rundstedt might make a spoiling attack with the Volksgrenadier divisions opposite the 9 US Army in order to prevent the straightening of the Allied line. Nothing serious was expected but as 10 SS Panzer Division had not been located for some time it was thought that this division might be used to give weight and support to the infantry divisions. Possible axes of the enemy counter-attack in order of probability were:-

(1) Julich - Aachen

(2) Linnich - Aachen

(3) Duren - Eschweiler

(4) Rotgen - Aachen

(5) Geilenkirchen - Aachen

53 (W) Division with 9 RTR Tanks in support and 5 US Armoured Division were given the task of dealing with this possible counter-attack should it succeed in breaking through 9 US Army positions. Support from groups of P47's was to be expected and the general principles as laid down by Command 53 (W) Division to fulfil task were as follows:-

(1) Immediate occupation of a firm base position by one Brigade group.

(2) Remainder of Division to assemble in an area in rear of firm base preparatory to:-

(3) Operating about firm base with object of striking the enemy in the flank of his penetration.

9 RTR Tanks was to be prepared to move to Division area where they would concentrate and be prepared to support either of the two attacking brigades.

The Regiment remained at 24 hours' notice and were still responsible with 53 (W) Division for the defence of Liege. However, the XII Corps attack progressed slowly and there was no indication that the enemy would make any spoiling counter move. Life once again became sedentary and the Regiment were entertained at intervals by film shows, concert parties and pantomimes – the latter introducing two charming Belgian girls who declared that they liked entertaining British soldiers – no one, however, discovered whether entertainment meant more than singing or dancing.

On 19 Jan, 53 (W) Division moved and the Regiment reverted to the control of 34 Armoured Brigade. Mol was expected to be the next concentration area and though A and B Echelons moved there they were eventually sent on to Eindhoven. Getting the tanks from Villers-aux-Tours along the ice and snow-bound roads to Liege, where transporters were to be found, was no easy task, but by the 25th concentration was complete and two days later the Commander 34 Armoured Brigade issued a Special Order of the Day congratulating the Regiment on the efficiency of their move.




Personal recollections of the journey to the Ardennes and back

John Hodges recalls the changes in orders, the pleasure of a sumptuous Christmas dinner, and the quiet that descended over the first three weeks of 1945.

"19th December

We are due to move to Tilburg tomorrow. Tonight 100 gliders reported approaching our area. 'Stood to' until 2am but nothing seen. Moved back to Brunssum after handing over our sector to the guards. Plans changed at last minute and we now go to Mol in Belgium. This counter-attack is making things hum – plenty of fighters, flying bombs etc. about and whole front very noisy – fortunately most of this seems to pass over and fall in back areas. Shall be glad to hand over to Guards!!

20th December

What a day this has been. Started off in fog at 0600 and counted 15 lorries ditched – one on fire and two smashed. Took hours and whole Brigade was stopped at Asch. Hung around till dark then told to stay at Asch.

One hour later told to move on to Bilsen to counter German thrust towards Liege. So the Americans have to call on the 2nd Army to help them out! Finally got to bed at 2a.m. 21 hours on my feet today and certainly feel like it! This threat looks serious and is going to take a lot of stopping now.

25th December

Moved very early today to a small village about five miles from Bilsen. We have been laying about at one hour's notice ever since getting here. This is a most delightful chateau and the family shared a meal with us. About 7 courses for dinner with 17 around the table. During the meal got orders to move at 0700 hours tomorrow! Very sorry to leave our most comfortable mess and get out again. It has frozen hard for four days but the weather is very healthy. My cold seems much better.

26th December

Moved to Liege with 51st Highland Division attached to 1st American Army. Very cold and a thick fog over the Meuse. Now on top of a hill overlooking the town and flying bombs are passing once every 15 minutes or so. No immediate prospect of battle unless the Americans can't hold the thrusts in which case we shall plug the gap until the rest regroup.

28th December

Moved 10 miles due south in an effort to get away from V1's. This is certainly better but they still fly over and drop round about – though not in such large numbers. This is a very small village, Villers-aux-Tours, but we just manage to fit in. Plenty of Yanks about here and very pleased to see us.

1st January 1945

1945 at last though there's very little to celebrate at the moment. We are still sitting about waiting to go in if the Boche breaks through the Yanks – though quite how we should do it with all this ice and snow I don't quite know. The mails have gone all haywire and we feel very cut off.

24th January

Move to Eindhoven. Roads very difficult and weather very cold. Back in almost the same billets we had last November! 76 miles".

Trevor Greenwood had been sick since C Squadron arrived in Brunssum, and had not been up to the front line with the rest of the squadron. When it came to moving back towards Belgium he went in a 3-ton truck, as he records.

"Wednesday 20 Dec 1944 D + 197

Rather a glum atmosphere in the house last evening: our impending departure seemed to have upset Mr & Mrs Bok. Had our usual supper of tea and apple tart – with a bully-beef sandwich. Called this morning at 4.15am. Breakfast 4.45. A damp, misty morning, but not cold. A hurried breakfast – and then back "home" to say good-bye – a painful business. As I shook hands with Mr. B he turned away and was too upset to look at me: he spoke quietly – in an unsteady voice. His wife was in tears – which she made no attempt to hide. We finally got away, after shaking hands three times!

On the vehicles at 5.30am – Myself in the cab of a three tonner with Sharman driving. Route cards were issued, and I found the dispersal point to be Bourg Leopold – Belgium! Finally got away about 5.45am. We were part of a very large convoy – and progress was slow – advisedly so on account of the mist, (visibility about 40 yards) and the damp greasy condition of the roads: the earlier passage of the tanks had left much mud on the roads making them more dangerous.

We had hardly travelled a mile before we started passing casualties – vehicles lying partly on their sides in the ditches. And before daylight, we passed dozens of them. A good demonstration of the treacherous nature of many of these Dutch and Belgian roads – if a vehicle happened to leave the road "metalling", perhaps to allow another vehicle to pass, it almost certainly became ditched – hopelessly so.

The first two hours of the journey were decidedly unpleasant – due to the weather and the roads, but matters became easier around 8.0am. Progress was spasmodic – with several long halts, but we eventually reached Asch in Belgium and found ourselves in the midst of an enormous concentration of vehicles. Something was definitely "up". We parked by the roadside and awaited orders. Rumours came thick and fast – but after being stationary for an hour or so, it seemed that our march programme had been abandoned – and this turned out to be the case.

The tanks were still in Asch from the night before – having abandoned their days programme before starting it! Yes – something was in the wind – and there were very few who weren't convinced that the German offensive on the American sector was the cause. Had they at last asked for British assistance? The answer seemed obvious. The cooks managed to prepare a dinner on the roadside, and this was very welcome.

During the afternoon, it was confirmed that we would remain in Asch for the night, and so we parked the vehicles as far as possible off the main highway. The lads drifted into neighbouring cafes etc, as usual, made friends with householders in the locality. Unfortunately, they were not allowed to find their own billets: these were found under squadron arrangements so as to have the men as far as possible under one roof in the event of a sudden order to move.

By nightfall, everyone had a bed-space and everything seemed to be well organised. And then damn rumour started again – we were moving at 8.30p.m. Could it be true? Where were we going? to Bilsen. But it was only a half truth. Orders had come through for the tanks to move at 8.30pm not the "soft" vehicles of the echelons. We echelon fellows breathed a sign of relief – and I felt a wave of sincere sympathy for the tank crews. They would have to do one of those appalling night marches to God knows where, whilst others were allowed to remain comfortably ensconced in billets before warm fires etc.

The tank crews always seem to get the raw end of the deal. I suppose it is inevitable. But at 8 o'clock my sympathy had turned to damned annoyance. I had just negotiated a comfortable private billet, contrary to orders, when the S.S.M. "asked" me to take charge of two petrol lorries which had to accompany the tanks. Just my blasted luck! What a business! The lorries had been parked in daylight off the road – between trees and ditches and houses etc – and they were scattered over quarter of a mile of roadway – a roadway which had become literally seething with traffic since dark. Lorries by the hundred were rolling and roaring past – all heading in one direction – infantry lorries full of singing troops, artillery lorries trailing their guns, ammunition, petrol, water – all and every conceivable type of vehicle. It had been a remarkably consistent flow of men and weapons – and it merely confirmed our earlier conviction that British troops were going to assist the Yanks.

Presumably, this ceaseless flow of vehicles would be interrupted to allow our convoy of tanks and lorries to gain the highway. In the near distance, above the noise of traffic, I could hear Churchill engines roaring as they were being warmed up for the journey.

This sound is not unpleasant in itself, but it is never welcome to me – so often has it been the prelude to a dawn attack – memories, unpleasant – dreadful.

At 8.30, the tanks commenced to move out – slowly nosing their way from the harbours on the roadside, and moving along past the lines of parked lorries. It was pitch dark – horrible conditions for the tank drivers on those narrow congested roads, but somehow there were no accidents. By now, I had located our two petrol lorries, plus the water cart, and had their drivers standing by ready to join on to the end of the tank column. We had a long wait. It is no mean job to organise a night march for a battalion of tanks, and progress was inevitably slow. But after about an hour, the tail end of the tank column rumbled past, and we quickly tacked on to the last vehicle – before any other vehicle had time to squeeze us out of our column.

Fortunately, side and tail lights were being used, so it was reasonably easy to keep in touch with the vehicle ahead. And so we moved off into the night, not knowing definitely where we were bound – but grimly conscious that the enemy lay somewhere ahead – and that a minor crisis in the war had arisen. After some hours of slow progress, we finally halted by a railway yard in what appeared to be a small town – Bilsen.

It was about 2.0am. I had to enquire about accommodation for the drivers and co-drivers of my three vehicles, six of us, all told. Nothing had been organised, but I ultimately found room in a small factory for four men. Bill Awcock and I slept in the driving cabs of two lorries.

Ultimately got to sleep about 4.0am, after listening to a few flying bombs overhead, and three heavily laden goods trains puffing their way to Maastricht.

Trevor had more excitement before Christmas.

"Sunday 24 Dec 1944 D + 201

A little excitement this evening. A young lady burst into the mens' billet in a semi-exhausted state: she gasped "Germans" – and waved her arms wildly. She only spoke "Flams", but we learned that three Jerries had broken into her next door neighbour's house and demanded food. The neighbour had somehow signalled to her through the wall – and she immediately mounted her bike and rode the half mile to our billet. There were only about half a dozen of us in the place – the rest of the lads being out celebrating Xmas eve. We grabbed our arms and followed the girl. The night was bitterly cold, with bright moonlight, and already the ground was white with frost.

After quarter of an hours walking, we found ourselves in a lonely country area – with a few scattered cottages straggling along the narrow country lane. One of them, 150 yards ahead, had lighted windows, and this was pointed out as our objective.

We went forward quietly, with weapons cocked, not knowing what was in store for us – whether fanatical Nazis dropped by parachute in the present offensive, or the more docile Jerry, willing to surrender on sight. When quite close to the house, I noticed a dark object moving in the shadow of a barn adjoining the house. I decided to investigate, fearing an ambush. But the "object" soon moved forward into the moonlight, and I beheld a woman. I had withheld my fire, fortunately. Almost simultaneously, I heard a thump and the house door flew open, revealing Ginger Young and two others standing in the beam of light from the house. They started a hell of a hullabaloo, inviting the "bastards" to give themselves up. There was a rush inside by four of us, and I noticed three terrified looking Jerries raising their hands as they rose from the table at which they were having supper! No doubt we looked pretty desperate, and all had arms. We quickly searched the prisoners, removing all papers etc. They had no arms. They were unshaven and looked very dirty. Their clothing too was in rags and totally inadequate for the cold weather. None of them wore an overcoat.

I have dim recollection of two other people in the room – probably the husband and wife, – but was too busy searching the prisoners, and on the qui-vive for treachery to pay any attention to them. We soon had the prisoners outside, and marched them back to our billet. We detained them whilst transport and an escort was organised, and then despatched them to the P.O.W. camp at Hasselt. I was glad to see them go. Had they been in the billet when any of our semi-drunk lads returned, there may have been trouble".

The second Battalion Newsletter records what happened to the squadrons in the period around Christmas.

HQ Squadron: We got rid of the CO on leave and set off in high spirits and a thick fog to go from Geilenkirchen to Belgium. In spite of the thick mist the rear of the column, ably led by SSM Ossie Joyce, only succeeded in getting ten lorries past Capt. George Eaton at the head of the column. Poor show, chaps, poor show!

Elaborate preparations had been made for Christmas Day but Hitler's little effort came close to upsetting the whole show, and even brought the CO back. A series of depressing night marches followed: We marched on Christmas morning, we marched on Boxing Day. But from mid-day on Christmas Day we were static. Everybody got cracking with tables and forms in the village hall and the locals helped us out with the cooking – so the dinner was a great success. Even the cigars, brown paper wrapped, soldiers' Christmas free issue, were enjoyed.

A Squadron: On a dark and filthy night we moved off and crossed the border into Belgium. What now? Christmas was right on our heels and we were at an hour's notice to move. Dreams of Holland misted and the voice of rumour rose – and nothing he had to say was pleasant. And so we sat for a day or two in a very large and hellishly cold furniture warehouse. Here we found beds for all which would have been a good thing if we had been allowed to use them. Luckily we were undisturbed on Christmas Eve, and although we moved again on Christmas Day we had time to get in some pretty solid eating and drinking.

B Squadron: Christmas Eve was spent in putting all the cognac in the town out of bottles into much better receptacles. George Bone and Willie Kembery used half pint tumblers as intermediaries; Sammy Linton was not so pansy. On Christmas Day we found ourselves on the move again, but fortunately we had to move only three miles. There we settled down to a first class Christmas Dinner which Busty Nuttall and his crew produced miraculously in record time.

Freddie Critchley, commanding 8 Troop of B Squadron, remembers the tribulations of the B Squadron officers on that memorable Christmas Day. "First we had to move. As soon as we had harboured, the cooks got cracking on the Christmas Dinner. In traditional style the sergeants and the officers served the dinner to the rest of the squadron, encouraged by such remarks as: 'Come on waiter, we haven't got all day' and 'If you can't give better service than this, you certainly won't get a tip from me'. Sergeants and officers then sampled the meal to see that it was alright: Christmas dinner number one. This was of course washed down with copious draughts of lubrication.

Then Tommo (SSM Tomlinson) invited all the officers to partake of Christmas dinner number two at the Sergeants' mess, again washed down with copious draughts.

And finally we returned to our own mess and found Christmas dinner number three waiting for us. Encouraged by further draughts of stronger fluid, we had no trouble at all in putting this away as well.

Some years after the war I recounted this story to a Dutch friend who had been in Holland north of the Rhine at that time, and very short of food. Why couldn't you have shared all of those dinners with us he said, quite horrified. Bit difficult to get over to you, I told him".

C Squadron: At Bilsen we had a carol service on Christmas Eve, but our actual Christmas dinner had to be held in a village outside wedged in between two moves. Corporal Blackman and the cooks worked wonders and a convent school provided two classrooms as dining halls. The nuns hurried about lighting fires and moving up desks and chairs for us to sit at. Tank sheets were used for black-outs and the village people lent us plates so that by nine at night we were all happy and well fed. Peter Boden returned clean and well from hospital and 14 Troop had got as far as wandering around singing carols when their ardour was considerably dampened by the news of another move to be made before daylight on Boxing Day.

The move on Boxing Day of 1944 took the Battalion from the area of Bilsen to the south, and ended in the suburbs of Liege on the southern side of the River Meuse. Peter Beale remembers it vividly: "We received orders during Christmas Day that we were to move south at 0700 hrs on Boxing Day. Due to the alcoholic and gastronomic rigours of the day I omitted to find out exactly where all my troop were billeted. The officers were woken the next morning – with some difficulty – and proceeded to look for the crews. Every other troop except 10 was ready to move by 0730. Mike Reynell, our squadron leader, wasn't very impressed. You should have known where they were, Peter; anyway, follow us as soon as you can.

It took nearly two hours to round up everyone, and I remember my co-driver, Ray Webb, looked absolutely green when he got into the tank. It was a beautiful day as we crossed the plain leading toward Liege and the River Meuse, but the sun didn't do much to keep out the perishing cold. Our new tank suits (goon skins, zoot suits etc, a garment with approximately 100 feet of zipper) were at least partially effective, however, and we arrived at the outskirts of Liege in good spirits – the resilience of youth!

The valley of the Meuse is quite deep at Liege, and in those sort of weather conditions can produce a real pea-soup fog. And this it had certainly done on Boxing Day 1944. But we found that the Military Police had prepared excellent signs, and we were able to follow the tortuous route down through the northern suburbs, across the river and the railway to our rendezvous point with very little trouble. When we got to the RV Johnnie Breck (Capt. John Brecknell, B Squadron Recce Officer) was there to meet us. Good to see you, Peter, the rest of the squadron behind you? Good God no, I said, they left two hours before us. Well, said John, I'll show you your billets and you can settle in.

Which we did, and about 20 minutes later the rest of the squadron arrived – to be greeted with some derision by 10 Troop. What kept you so long?

The problem, of course, was the fog, and the fact that the MP's hadn't done any signing when the first tanks of the squadron arrived. So they had the miserable business of trying to find their way through the tortuous streets of a fog-bound unknown town without suitable maps or any other guides. Not bad to have made it at all!"

The things we noticed about Liege at once were: the friendliness of the inhabitants, the comfort of our billets, and the flying bombs – the pilotless planes loaded with explosive, technically called V1's, alternatively called robots, bombes-volants, doodle-bugs, buzz-bombs, or flying farts. We had not experienced them before at close hand, with their rather nasty habits. Their engines were timed to switch off when they were over the target area – which had to be large. Then they would glide to the earth and explode on impact. If you heard an explosion you were alright; if you heard the swishing of wind through their wings as they glided down, you were almost certainly alright, although the explosion might be quite close. But if you heard the engine shut off – watch out! It might go anywhere.

Jock Cordiner didn't like the flying bombs, along with everybody else.

"Liege (Seraing) was the place of V1's. I arrived at our billet a little later than my mates – can't remember why. I joined them and the Belgian family around the large kitchen table in a game of cards. A screaming noise sent me diving under the table fearing the explosion that never came. I was alone, looking at legs and hearing general laughter. Someone eventually was good enough to tell me that the loud explosion which I had just ignored was the screaming thing which seconds later had set me diving. That took a long time to live down."

There was no particular need to stay in Liege itself, because the role allocated to the 9th could just as well be carried out a few miles further south, nearer the front line. On 28 December the Battalion moved to villages south of Liege; A Squadron to Hestreux Tavier, C Squadron to Limont, and HQ and B Squadrons to Villers-aux-Tours. Initially there was constant concern about the movement of the German 5 and 6 Panzer Armies. But as time went by it became more and more apparent that the Americans, assisted by allied air power and British XXX Corps at the western end of the salient, had thrown back the German thrust. So the 9th were free to enjoy the amenities of the neighbourhood which included snow, comfortable billets, and some quiet drinking.

Jock Cordiner had found Liege itself rather unnerving, but: "The village of Hestreux Tavier a few miles from Liege was a total contrast. In my billet there was an attractive young daughter, Madeleine, with whom I kept contact for some years. Her elder sister was having a difficult pregnancy. Two of us were given permission to walk a mile or two downhill to the nearest pharmacy for medicine.

Off we set in the beautiful clean, deep snow. After getting the medicine we repaired to the local hostelry for a pint before commencing the long haul uphill. In the cafe we exchanged pleasantries with some Yanks who did seem to ask an awful lot of searching questions. We reported this on our return to the village to learn later than no Americans were in that area. But Germans in American uniforms were, and seemingly I had encountered these for the second time in my short career".

These Germans in American uniforms were members of a special force under the command of Major Otto Skorzeny, the man who had rescued the captive Mussolini from the Gran Sasso in Italy. He had been given command of all the Germans who spoke American and knew America; they were concentrated in a special training camp, were clothed in captured American uniforms and taught to handle American jeeps. Their role was to spread alarm and despondency in the rear areas, and to do what damage they could. This they certainly did, because the suspicion they created greatly hampered the movements of allied soldiers.

Bill Thompson also remembered one of the local damsels. "We were directed into the Ardennes south of Liege. C Squadron remained for about a month in a little Belgian village called Limont. Many of the guys struck up friendships with the local people, yours truly included. I can remember Germaine following the tanks for a very long way when we left to go back to Eindhoven".

Fred Glasspool: "We took several photos of the tanks and crews in the snow at Limont. We were moved down there to support the Americans, but in the end we weren't needed. We did have some super billets with civilians".

Dickie Hall: "We were billeted in the village of Limont, about 8 miles from Liege. We slept upstairs in beds while the farmer and his wife and daughter slept in the cellar – there were many doodle bugs falling around. During the autumn they had made dozens of galées (waffles), and we ate these with our jam, which we shared with the family. They must have been made of maize, as they were very yellow".

Jack Woods also remembers both food and drink at the billet he shared with Charlie Merry, as well as one of the more curious begging positions.

"Rumour had it that it was Mol in Belgium for Xmas and civvy billets, in the end it was the Ardennes and Xmas on the way, we skated into a village south of Liege and settled down in reserve supporting 51st Highland Division. I was billeted with an old lady and her son and daughter-in-law, once again I was with Charlie Merry. The son and daughter -in-law were newlyweds and we had to go through their bedroom to reach ours. I still smile occasionally when I recall the son in the midst of his honeymoon activities with one hand out of bed begging for a cigarette. His mother made the largest and fluffiest omelettes I have ever eaten, even now, but the obligatory 'Tasse de malt' which went with them, Ugh!"

The journey back from the Ardennes to Eindhoven started on 24 January 1945, and took place in two stages. The first was from the various villages in which the squadrons had been billetted to Ans, a suburb of Liege on the high ground north of the River Meuse. To get there on tracks was a very hairy business, as one or two accounts will show. The second stage was by transporter from Ans to Eindhoven, memorable mainly for the cold.

Ronnie Holden remembered: "This journey was in the middle of the winter after very heavy snowstorms and freezing weather and the road was like glass. The tanks were all over the place, going downhill sideways, forwards and backwards – it was a wonder that we did not have any casualties caused by ourselves!"

Jock Cordiner went on leave from Hestreux Tavier, and so missed this interesting and perilous journey. However, he had some very interesting experiences of his own.

"I was number 4 on the leave list and left for Blighty from Hestreux Tavier. The lorry and train journey in mid-winter was painful, taking 24 hours to reach Calais. I had my introduction to Customs dodging. Someone offered me a drink of spirits in the train. He had a lot of bottles. I thought he was being charitable: to a point he was, but he needed to break all the seals and sample the wares. The loot which came down the gangplank at Dover had to be seen. I was walking with a naval rating and he was called to open his case. Protesting that it contained the ship's cat he opened it, and out jumped the ships cat. He was furious, shouting that the Captain would kill him if his favourite cat was lost. I waited while he ran back after it. Presently he came racing back and went straight to the same Customs Officer, asking if he wanted to see the cat again. A flustered officer chalked his case and waved him on. In the train I enquired about the cat. My grinning friend opened the case to reveal cameras, watches, and much else, but no cat. "They stop all navy boys," he said, "so you have to try something special". He assured me that the cat would by now be safely back on the ship.

On the last night of my leave I landed in hospital. After release a few days later I expected to return to the 9th; but no, I was ordered to Catterick. As a senior 'boy' among rookies I was soon given a posting to the far east and off I set to Glasgow Docks with a sergeant. There he was accepted but I was not because my papers actually were made out to a unit 'somewhere in Europe'. I coaxed the R.T.O. to give me a rail warrant to Dover, but Dover for the same reason (that I should have embarked at Glasgow) would not take me. Acting on the buck-passing principle they sent me to Harwich.

At Harwich I learned that transport to Europe had been stopped temporarily. The Naval Base came to my rescue and, oddly, it was the Officers Mess who fed and bedded me for the night. They were apparently chuffed to speak to somebody who wasn't naval, and they plied me with questions all evening about what was happening 'out there'. What a pity this experience had to end for me. The following afternoon I was back in Dover being rejected once more. I had had enough sightseeing, for travelling in prevailing conditions had a downside. "Send me across or I go A.W.O.L." I snapped. It then became the easiest thing for the overworked embarkment authorities to put me on a boat.

At Calais, predictably, the R.T.O. would not allow me on an eastbound train. I joined the next one out by walking up the rails and climbing on at the wrong side. Next day we ran out of usable railway track and I took to my feet. Every time I met anyone in uniform, of whatever nationality, the conversation went something like this:

"Have you seen any British Tanks lately?"

"Yes".

"Churchills?"

"What do they look like?" I explained.

"No, I haven't seen them".

It took a while. I saw a lot of Holland, but eventually I found Germany and the 9th. If I expected a hero's welcome I was bitterly disappointed. I was put on a fizzer for being A.W.O.L. Eventually my papers made some sense to somebody and some clever Dick told me that I could stay in the 9th although really I did not belong to them....it was very good practice for the years I was to spend in the Civil Service".

The rest of the 9th, back at Eindhoven, was now able to prepare for the next major action. This, as it turned out, was the last for the 9th and the last but one for the allied forces in the west.