The Great World War 1914–1945: 1. Lightning Strikes Twice

Thomas Laing

was a shop assistant in Edinburgh when conscripted in 1939. When asked on enlistment if he had any preference for a particular arm of the service, he explained that he was a musician and interested in organising entertainments. The response was immediate: ‘…it’s the infantry for you!’ He was posted to a training unit of the Cameronians in a hutted camp at East Kilbride, having had no previous military experience:

‘We were all conscripts, and not allowed out of camp for the first three weeks, until we had acquired a semblance of soldierly appearance. Apart from the few malcontents which could be found in any branch of the forces, all of us realised we were there “for the duration”, so there was nothing for it but to make the best of it. Having had to wait some time between enlistment and call-up gave us some time to prepare mentally for the abrupt change in our circumstances. I was able to escape the dreaded Church Parade by being detailed as an organist, and also to organise entertainments for the unit. I cannot recall that there were any complaints about the standard of catering, but some of our billets were pretty primitive to say the least, but we all mucked in and an excellent team spirit developed. While we were prepared to accept orders from our own officers, there was always objection taken to anyone not of our Regiment trying to tell us what to do. We had a strong sense of being part of the Scottish military tradition – I think even the Englishmen who joined us felt this, and adopted the same unwillingness to be messed about, especially by anyone we didn’t respect.’

This was not always the case. The policy adopted in 1916 during the First World War of restricting the number of conscript postings to local regiments was continued – in order to avoid a particular area being severely affected in the event of that unit suffering heavy casualties. It was not a universal success. A Rifleman

, who wishes to remain anonymous, joined at Hamilton in early 1940 to be squadded with several thoroughly disaffected East Londoners bemused by their alien surroundings, and intent only on returning to London and their former way of life in the criminal society of the city’s East End:

‘On our first leave, the Barracks shut down all training, and a special train was laid on to Glasgow to catch onward connections. The train had barely left the station when the Londoners changed into civilian clothes, threw their uniforms out of the window and produced false identification cards. I never saw them again…’

Unlike 1914 there was no immediate award of commissioned rank to men thought to be of the right social standing and background. Initially officers were selected mainly from the ranks of the existing Territorial battalions of the Army. However, in the Officer Cadet Training Corps a requirement of membership was the giving of an undertaking in the event of war to join HM Forces and go forward to commissioned rank. The potentiality of immediate commissioning occurred in September 1939 to David Liddell

, a private in the only infantry battalion of The Honourable Artillery Company, a prestigious London Territorial regiment. He was a junior broker with Lloyd’s, joining his battalion when it was mobilised. The HAC, in effect, was an Officer Cadet Unit, and membership then virtually guaranteed an offer of a commission after mobilisation, the timing of the offer being dependent on length of service as a Territorial.

After a two-month crash course at Bulford in December 1939, I was awarded a commission. I was required to express a preference for a regimental posting. A friend of the family, Major Storey, MC, a Cameronian of many years standing whom I greatly respected, had urged me to apply to his regiment, and although I had no previous connection with it, I was delighted when accepted – so much so, that I was able to persuade three other friends, newly commissioned from HAC, to do so, and we all arrived at Hamilton Barracks at the turn of the year.’

The need to produce cadres of competent junior NCOs was quickly grasped.

‘Training of new recruits was a priority. Soon after my arrival, still as a 2nd Lieutenant, I was given command of a platoon created to train potential NCOs. At the conclusion of each course, my duty was to submit a report to Battalion HQ on the potential of each man. The quality of the Riflemen selected was uniformly high, and many of them joined the 12th Battalion, which was in the course of being made up to strength. I was privileged to be posted to that unit later in 1940, and was pleased to find that those men who had undergone this training were making their mark already as junior NCOs.’

Malcolm McNeil

, formerly a member of Glasgow University OTC, who joined the Cameronians as a rifleman direct from taking a law degree, said of the four-month course that was to become the norm for Infantry OCTUs throughout the war:

‘The standard of education set and the efficiency of instruction were pretty so-so. I don’t think I learned anything more than I had done at OTC, but the difference was the 24-hour seven-day-a-week exercise and practice, and making soldiering a way of life… The proper training of the Home Forces only began seriously in 1942, when the influence of Alexander, Montgomery, and the GOC Home Forces began to apply to intelligent training – the setting up of Battle Schools, and the concentration on technical skills. Until then we were at sixes and sevens, and from what I saw of it, the 51st (Highland) Division was as poorly trained as we of the 52nd (Lowland) Division when they were sent out to Africa – where they had to learn pretty PDQ…’

Edward Scott

, a Cheshire man with no Cameronian connections, had this to record:

‘On the outbreak of war in September 1939 I volunteered for service in the army and was formally enlisted. I had undertaken to enlist as a member of the Officer Cadet Reserve, which I had joined on leaving the School OTC with Certificate “A”. I was aware on enlistment that I would have to serve some six months in the ranks before being considered for a commission…’

While awaiting joining instructions he continued his legal studies. On the formation of the Local Defence Volunteers (afterwards the Home Guard) as a private, he joined the local unit. His opinion of its possible effectiveness, despite the undoubted enthusiasm of its members, most of whom were between 45 and 60 years or in reserved occupations, was somewhat circumspect:

‘We were issued with a .303 rifle and ten rounds of ammunition with which to repel the German paratroops… Eventually to my surprise I received orders to report to the Infantry Training Centre of the Cameronians (Scottish Rifles) at Hamilton Barracks. I duly reported there on 14 November 1940, and found myself as a rifleman, in hutted accommodation in the company of some 30 young men from Lanarkshire and Glasgow, little of whose conversation I would at first understand. My comrades in arms were good-hearted and loyal to the group. They seemed to have readily, if resignedly, accepted the need to serve, accepted the firm but fair discipline, and showed keenness to learn. Regimental traditions and standards were soon imposed. The training, particularly in weapons, was of a high standard.

My Company Commander was Capt G. R. S. Drought. He was killed in action in Sicily in 1943. He had been an Army Boxing Champion, and it became clear to me that if I wanted a commission I had better enter the boxing ring. I did so one bitterly cold November night, suffering from a head cold and confronted by one Corporal Telfer, who seemed much bigger than me. He struck me on the nose in the first round, and I was covered in blood, but survived to be beaten on points over the three rounds…’

This exploit had evidently impressed the Company Commander, who put Scott forward for an interview with the Commanding Officer, as a result of which he was recommended for a commission. Scott attended 168 OCTU at Droitwich, then at Morecambe.

‘At the conclusion of the four-months OCTU course, which did not impress me, cadets had the opportunity to choose three Regiments in order of preference. The time spent at Hamilton had been an excellent introduction to basic full-time soldiering, and I had no hesitation in selecting the Cameronians as my first choice, being thankful to gain acceptance.’

There was then no pre-OCTU course lasting six weeks, during which those unlikely to make the grade, for whatever reason, were weeded out. This did not become part of officer training until later in the war. Both in training and quality of instruction, in the early stages of OCTUs’ existence it seems that they left a lot to be desired. Most who had been members of their university or school Officer Training Corps or Army Cadet Force felt that they had learned little new from the course. Standards did improve later as instructor cadres began to be filled with battle-experienced officers and NCOs.

Michie, by this time commissioned (in March 1940) and, like McNeil, a subaltern in the 6th Battalion The Cameronians, was very much of the same opinion:

‘Early in 1940 I was sent on a short Junior Leader’s Course at Esdaile, Kilgraston Road, Edinburgh, where an instructor read us a book called Infantry Section Leading. This excellent publication was issued to London Scottish NCOs in the summer of 1939, and I used to study it in the London Tube on my way to work – all the instructor did was to read from it… I could have taught him!’

Both Michie and McNeil served with the Battalion during its short stay in France in 1940. Of this period, Michie recalled:

‘The platoon anti-tank weapon was the Boyes Anti-Tank Rifle, which could hardly open a tin of sardines. The rifleman in charge had more than likely come with me a week earlier as one of the 275 other ranks who joined the 6th. He had to confess that he had never fired the weapon, and in fact didn’t know how to handle it.’

MacNeil remembered:

‘I’d had very good instruction on rifle, pistol, Bren Gun, 2-inch Mortar. Tommy Guns were issued in France in June 1940 – without even an instruction book. We relied on memories of US gangster films to get it working, per Edward G. Robinson.’

While the experience of recruits in 1939 was broadly similar to that of their predecessors in 1914, their instruction was different. They were more cynical about the nation’s leaders, and less inspired by calls on their patriotism to rally them to the colours. The war was seen as a necessary evil to combat Nazi Germany’s arrogance and drive for domination, but less of a crusade than it had appeared to many of those who rushed to enlist in 1914. Once part of an army unit, they settled down in much the same way as their fathers had 25 years earlier, accepting the trials and tribulations of wartime with as good a grace as possible.

Notes on contributors

Lieutenant-Colonel Sir John Baynes Bt., Independent Military Historian, Llanfyllin, UK.

Sir John Baynes served in the British Regular Army with the Cameronians (Scottish) Rifles and the Queen’s Own Highlanders. He has written numerous military biographies and related books and is best known for his outstanding work, Morale: A Study of Men and Courage. The Second Scottish Rifles at the Battle of Neuve Chapelle (1967).

Cliff Pettit, Independent Historian and Author, Alnwick UK.

Cliff Pettit is a retired solicitor who served as an infantry platoon commander in North West Europe in the later stages of the Second World War. He has an extensive knowledge of the First and Second World War battlefields of Western Europe. He has presented, advised and assisted in television documentaries on Gallipoli, the Somme and Third Ypres.

Recommended reading

Milligan, Spike, Hitler: My Part in His Downfall (London: Michael Joseph Ltd, 1971). A humorous but nevertheless realistic account of barrack room life and the attitudes of conscript recruits.

Whiting, Charles, Poor Bloody Infantry, Chapters 1 (#u670a92e4-7b9f-5b16-be92-614bb715f677) and 2 (#uf5e587c4-0eb4-52d3-99b2-c438e355ea5c) (London: Guild Publishing, 1987)

Chapter 3 (#ulink_cc4db415-3a6e-5c66-bc96-3a6a805dd9e6)

Waging the undersea war: a British perspective (#ulink_cc4db415-3a6e-5c66-bc96-3a6a805dd9e6)

Jeff Tall

‘It is essential to keep the standard high – nothing can be neglected – it is not a kindness to overlook slackness or mistakes, it is really great cruelty to do so – cruelty to wives and relatives of the man you let off and his shipmates and to yourself. There is no margin for mistakes in submarines; you are either alive or dead’

These words, spoken by Admiral Sir Max Horton when Flag Officer Submarines in 1941 to all submarine officers and men in Malta, carry a universal truth for all mariners, not just submariners. To cover the whole breadth of wartime maritime experience in the context of Horton’s exhortation would fill several volumes; however, even the most gnarled sea-dog would probably concede that examination of the British submariner’s story during the World Wars encapsulates his experience sufficiently well to justify this chapter’s narrow focus on the craft and its inhabitants.

Of all the British fighting arms of the two World Wars, the greatest similarities are to be found in the Royal Navy Submarine Service. The platform itself had developed little in the inter-war years and, whatever improvements had been made, the tradition in the Royal Navy of putting the requirements for equipment above the comfort of the crew, prevailed. True, the submarine had become larger, which meant that it now had more torpedo tubes and greater reload capacity; the gun had a longer range and a bigger arsenal; its endurance had been enhanced through more powerful engines and higher fuel storage capacity; communications were now an integral part of submarine warfare; and a ranging form of ASDIC for mine detection had been added to its tactical capability. But all these enhancements called for a higher manning requirement, so there was no relief on the demands for internal space.

Thus, for the men, little had changed. Living conditions were cramped and sanitary arrangements were crude. Minor compensations were the fact that everyone smelled the same, and the daily tot of rum for the sailors (issued on surfacing) was served neat rather than watered down as ‘grog’. Even though by the start of the Second World War the majority of submarines were fitted with Escape Towers and the Davis Submarine Escape Apparatus (DSEA), ‘the war orders were that all escape and other hatches, except the conning-tower hatch, were not only to be clipped internally but also secured by a steel bar externally to prevent a hatch jumping its clips due to depth-charging.’

Thus the chances of escape once sunk were remote in the extreme.

The two areas of specialist operator growth witnessed between the two wars lay in communications and underwater listening. In the First World War, because of the lack of experience in Wireless Telegraphy (W/T) in the Submarine Service, it was necessary to call for volunteers from the ranks of Boy Telegraphists as they left training in HMS Vernon. There were 16 recruited throughout the war, the youngest of whom was 16½, and of these nine perished. There was a single Hydrophone Listener in the later submarines of the era. In the Second World War the W/T staff had grown to four in number, and the Higher Detection (HD) rating occasionally had an assistant, although a Radio Operator was often to be found on the ASDIC set.

In addition the submarines’ modus operandi had changed little. Although they could travel further and stay on patrol longer, they were still weapons of position in that they relied on their targets to come to them, unless the playing field was levelled by mutual physical constraints of restricted waters; they were required in large numbers to be effective; they still relied on the cover of darkness to allow them to charge their batteries, the life blood of the submarine, and conduct their transits; the sextant and astro-navigation still told them where they were (some of the time); the torpedo was still essentially a straight-runner, whose reliability was sometimes in doubt; and the commanding officers still attacked by eye. In the First World War, in addition to being a torpedo boat, the submarine was used as a minelayer, anti-submarine patroller, shore bombardier and, on one famous occasion, a platform from which to launch a ‘special forces’ operation (HMS E11 and a Turkish viaduct). In the Second World War they were used as gun-boats, minelayers, troop-carriers, store-carriers, tankers, navigation beacons to guide surface vessels, rescue stations to pick up downed pilots, reconnaissance units, survey ships, convoy escorts, anti-submarine vessels, power stations to supply electricity ashore, and for landing and taking off agents on enemy soil.

But above all else their primary role was to disrupt enemy supplies by sinking their shipping; they were weapons of attrition. However, unlike the Germans in the two World Wars and the Americans in the Second, who did most of their attacking on the surface at night in the open sea, preying on large convoys and relying upon their low profiles to avoid early detection, in both wars the British had to seek out their targets in heavily defended waters, much of it shallow and richly populated by mines. As a result they conducted most of their attacks submerged by day, or, if circumstances were favourable, by a brief visit to the surface to use the gun. It was constantly dangerous, and the virtually guaranteed outcome of an attack was a ‘bollocking’ either from escorting anti-submarine (A/S) vessels or aircraft. Commander Ben Bryant, who commanded HMS Sealion and Safari between 1939 and 1943, described the submarine as ‘expendable’

, and perhaps the final telling factor of similarity lies in comparison of loss rates for the World Wars. In human terms, the number of men lost was roughly equivalent to the number serving at the start of the conflict (First World War 1,200/1,418, Second World War 3,200/3,383), and in hull terms, losses were approximately 35 per cent of the total that saw active service (First 57, Second 74).