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The Commandos

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O.C.

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In one of the books I have called The Blocking of Zeebrugge I have a small cutting from the Times from Sat. April 22nd 1967 (See snap below)
Admiral of the Fleet Sir Roger Keyes was the founder of the British commandos, and the soldiers who form the personnel of these select bodies are picked men and they go through a very rigorous training. Swimming with full kit, wrestling, climbing, and various methods of individual fighting are all included in the physical training course through which they have to pass. Each man must also be an individualist. He must be able to carry out with perfect precision and without unnecessary orders the task allotted to him, so that during a raid the soldiers or parties of soldiers forming the commando will go about their various tasks like the wheels of a well-made machine, each one working in perfect harmony with the others.
It was early in 1941 that the first British commando made history by carrying out a successful raid on the four principal fishing ports of the Lofoten Islands off the Norwegian coast. In these ports there were large fish-oil factories, the produce of which was used by the Germans in the manufacture of explosives. They were therefore an important cog in the enemy's war effort, and their destruction was one of the chief motives of the raid.
This was carried out on Tuesday, March 4th, and the northern dawn was about to break when the vessels, carrying the troops, steamed slowly up the fiord's towards their objectives, and under the guns of the protecting warships prepared to land their men. Silently and with perfect precision the soldiers entered the boats and made for the shore, the spray freezing upon the sides of the craft as they clove through the ice-cold water. The men were armed with tommy guns, Bren guns, rifles and grenades, but their arrival was so unheralded, the surprise so complete, that the Germans had no time to-organise resistance, and within fifteen minutes of landing the British had occupied the strong points of the small towns, and the work of destruction had begun. The fish-oil factories were set on fire, petrol storage tanks went up in flames, a power station was destroyed, and from all directions came loud explosions, while huge clouds of black smoke, billowing up into the cold, clear air, told of the immensity of destruction which was being wrought.
While these things were happening on shore, on the smooth waters of the fiord's the Navy was equally busy. So great was the dismay caused among the Germans by the raid that the only opposition came from an armed trawler, which was soon disposed of, one German officer and six men being killed during the short engagement, and then, in quick succession, ten other merchant ships belonging to the enemy were sent to the bottom, while in another part of the fiord a great floating fish oil-factory of 10,000 tons was sunk.
Meantime, amid the work of destruction, the men of the commando snatched moments to fraternise with the Norwegian inhabitants who had welcomed them as deliverers. The British had brought with them gifts of chocolate, tobacco, cocoa, cigarettes and other things of which the islanders had been deprived since the German occupation, and these the soldiers distributed among the Norwegians and their wives and families. It was also given out that any one who wished to leave the islands and return with the commando to Britain might do so, and three hundred volunteers for the Navy were soon forthcoming.
All this time the clouds of smoke and flame from the blazing factories and petrol tanks were rising higher and higher into the air until the surrounding snow-clad mountains were hidden from view. It was a terrible, awe-inspiring sight, but to the men of the commando it was a sign of work well done, and as soon as the task of devastation had been completed, the troops re-embarked, taking with them two hundred and fifteen prisoners and those Norwegians bound for Britain, and as silently as it had come, the flotilla put out to sea, leaving behind smoking ruins and desolation. The first commando raid had been made and had proved a conspicuous success. Not a single British life had been lost, and a shrewd blow had been struck at the enemy's war machine.
A raid of quite another character was that which was staged in Libya in November 1941. The object of this raid was the headquarters of the German Army in Africa and the death or capture of General Rommel the commanding officer. The raid was arranged to take place on the night of November 17th, the eve of General Sir Claude Auchinleck's attack on Libya, and had it proved successful in its main object, the British advance might have been an even greater triumph than it was. Unfortunately, however, General Rommel chose the very night of the raid to attend a birthday party, so he was not at his headquarters when the daring little band of British soldiers burst in upon the astonished Germans.
The actual raid began on November 15th, when a party of thirty officers and men were secretly landed two hundred miles within enemy territory, and all through the 16th and 17th they lay hidden in a dry river bed under the hot, blazing desert sun. It must have been an anxious time. At any moment they might have been discovered by an enemy patrol or spotted from an aeroplane passing overhead. But fate was kind. No such mischance occurred, and as the sun sank on the last day, the little band made ready for the tasks ahead. Not all were to visit Rommel's headquarters. Some were detailed for other objectives, but when all was over, the various parties were to meet at a rendezvous twenty miles from the German camp, and from there endeavour to make their way back to their own lines. In accounts of this daring commando raid so far given attack on General Rommel's headquarters has come to hand. After a long march across the desert the little party detailed for this attack reached the building which should have housed the German general, and endeavoured to obtain an entry from the back. But this proved impossible either by door or window without attracting unwanted attention and thus warning the occupants inside, so the attackers went round to the front door and knocked loudly upon it. Soon footsteps were heard coming towards the door. That they could be enemies who knocked never entered the German's heads, so they opened without hesitation; imagine then their terrified surprise when, instead of words of greeting, they were met by shots from revolvers and tommy guns.
The surprise was complete. In the first room opened by the British they found a number of German officers including two upon Rommel's staff, and these were promptly mown down by bullets from the assailant's guns. Meanwhile the colonel commanding the detachment, supported by a captain and a sergeant, had thrown open the door of a second room. This one was in darkness, however—either the men inside had been asleep, or they had extinguished the light at the first alarm—but now as the colonel opened the door and dashed in, firing his pistol towards the spot where the sound of heavy breathing denoted the presence of invisible enemies, he was received by a volley of pistol shots, and fell back mortally wounded.
Thereupon began a short but desperate game of blind man's bluff. Stepping into the room, the sergeant sprayed the dark  interior with a stream of bullets from his Tommy gun then, retreating, he gave place to the captain who tossed in a couple of grenades to complete the shambles, after which they hastily retired, beating the wounded colonel with them. A few minutes later that brave man died.
While all this was going on some other Germans had endeavoured to reach the ground floor from an upper story, but had hastily retreated when met by a blast of lead from the tommy gun of a corporal who had stationed himself at the foot of the stairs. The Germans, indeed, put up a poor resistance. No doubt the astounding unexpectedness of the attack had something to do with this, and they may have thought themselves assaulted by greatly superior numbers. Certainly the assailants gave them no respite. Having finished inside the house, the British ran round the outside, tossing grenades into every window and creating terrible havoc; then, having done all they could, they started to retreat. Unfortunately the captain had been wounded in the leg, and had to be left behind, so it was the sergeant who. finally led the little band of survivors to the rendezvous twenty miles away, where they met the rest of their comrades. But now the weather, which had so far been kind, took a turn for the worse, and instead of being evacuated as had been arranged, the little British band found themselves assailed on the following day by a vastly superior force of Germans and Italians. For two hours they maintained the unequal fight; then the colonel in charge of the commando ordered the men to break up into a number of small parties, and to retreat to the Jebel Akhbar mountains to the east where they were to hold out as best they could until the advancing British army came to their release. This plan was immediately carried out, and in spite of a thorough search undertaken by the Germans, several of the British reached their own lines in safety after many adventures and hairbreadth escapes.
Shortly after the raid on Rommel's headquarters the commandos paid a second visit to the Lofoten Islands. This raid took place in December 1941, and was on a more ambitious scale than the first expedition. A strong naval force escorted the ships bearing the troops, and to protect them against the rigours of the northern winter, the men of the commando had each been supplied with special clothing costing £50 per man.
As before, nothing had been left to chance, and excitement reigned high among the troops when land was sighted early on Boxing Day, 1941. The little towns of Reine and Sund were the first objectives, and in the darkness of the northern dawn, the flat-bottomed boats were lowered, and silently the men who formed the landing parties took their places on board. There was the very minimum of noise. In a hush the boats slid away from the shipsship'ss and made towards the shore, while the men left behind stared into the great light and listened anxiously for the sudden outburst of gun and rifle fire which would proclaim that the Germans were awake and ready to meet the invaders. But no such sounds broke the stillness, and presently the boats began to return, their crew bringing news that the landings had been unopposed, and that the troops were already in control of the towns. The surprise had been complete. , Sorvagen was the next objective, and there the landing was equally successful. The small German detachments surrendered without striking a blow, and thereafter the combined British and Norwegian force spent nearly three days on the islands, destroying everything which might further the enemy's war effort, and fraternising with the Norwegian inhabitants. News of their presence had, however, got through to the Germans on the mainland, and on the second day a solitary plane made a bombing attack on the ships in the fiord at Reine. One bomb dropped near a warship, which was the closest the Germans got to a hit, and a short time later the plane was seen to crash into the sea. That was all the opposition the raiders of Lofoten encountered, and on the third day the troops re-embarked, taking with them the German prisoners and a hundred Norwegian men and women who wished to come to England. The raid had been a complete success. For three days the navy and army had been seated at the GermanGerman'sdoor, and had completely disorganized the enemy's sea communications with the German armies on the northern Russian front. They had done this, too, without suffering a single casualty, and all the Germans had been able to do by way of retaliation was to send a single bombing plane on a futile raid.
While these events were happening on the Lofoten Islands, four hundred and fifty miles to the south another commando, supported by the Navy and R.A.F., was making an attack on the Norwegian islands of Vaagso and Maaloy. Again every detail had been worked out with minute precision. So that the attackers should not be interfered with by planes sent from the Herdla aerodrome, a hundred miles farther south, several Blenheim bombers made a low-level attack on the runways, blowing them to bits, and so making it impossible for the German planes to take off.
Meanwhile another force of Hampdens laid a smoke screen along the shores of the islands, under cover of which the troops landed. This time, however, the Germans were prepared for their coming, and there was some severe street fighting in Vaagso before the last of the defenders had been mopped up. Then the work of demolition began. Guns and gun emplacements were destroyed. Munition works, a radio station, oil tanks and military storehouses were blown up or set on fire, and in the harbour 15,650 tons of Nazi shipping were destroyed. For six hours the raid lasted, then, their job done, the troops went on board the ships again, taking with them many German prisoners and a number of Norwegian refugees. Another British commando had struck, and had left behind them stark ruin and devastation among the enemy's ships and works. No wonder the Germans fear the men who form the British commandos. They are "tough." They can "take it," as we say nowadays, but as the enemy has found to his cost, and will doubtless. find again, they can also " dish it out."
As a kid I always wanted to be a Commando as you can tell by how long this article is I am sure you all know were the Commandos memorial is in Scotland What Great Men I wished I could have joined them.
The First Photo shows specially constructed invasion barges that were manned by the marines
Second Photo taken during training how the Commandos quickly and silentley unload their craft note the Bofor gun being hauled ashore for action ( most of the actions shown her would have taken place in the dark )
The cutting I have shown at the bottom is Strange as it shows that the great man died at the age of 73 on active service which I have got to check out. (Struggled with the spellchecker but will recheck )
 
Really think you give a valuable insight into the life of the Commando forces during that time!
 
Now adays it's the Royal Marine Commando's
who carry out the great tradition,
each having their own specialised sections
 
To my mind the Commandos of WW2 were the most efficient fighting machine of the British army who were trained as an individuals, to make him sufficiently tough in body to stand up to the severest physical conditions and to sharpen his mind to make instant decisions, the hand picked troops whose job was to strike and be gone.
Men who learnt to climb cliffs through smoke and bombs, drop down steep sloops in to water and swim with helmet, rifle ammunition and full kit across to the other side
A special breed of tough fighting men who faced the unknown in the terrain of the land as well as enemy action
Photo's the Commandos in training
bottom photo the Commandos going into action
 
Raid into Norway

This is a first person account written by the Rev George Parsons. George is my fathers cousin born in sparkbrook. After the war George became an ordained minister in the C of E.

At the age of 18 I enlisted in the 9th (2nd City of London) regiment Royal Fusiliers, a territorial battalion.

At the outbreak of war September 1939, we were mobilised and stationed at Nutley in Sussex some 30 miles from London. It was from here that I and some twelve others ranks and officers volunteered for a special mission. The destination was not known. We were told there were certain dangers and risks and that we would be leaving immediately so that there would be no chance of leave, or letting our families know that we were leaving. The only address was to be No5 Scissors. C/o War Office.
The next day a coach took us to a camp at St Mary's bay in Kent. A Major Peddie who was to be our commanding officer met us. A briefing then followed, outlining that our eventual destination was overseas, at the present moment there were no plans for getting us back and where we were going was tough terrain and wounded personnel would have to be left behind. In addition we would be taking very little in the way of rations and each would be given a certain sum of money and would be expected to buy food in the country where we were going.

We would be known as No5 independent Company. There were I believe some ten such companies formed, but only five were eventually used.

Everything then happened very quickly. In a matter of hours we were entrained for Scotland and eventually arrived at the port of Gourock where we loaded stores and equipment onto the boat which was to take us overseas. The boat was an Irish cross channel ferry The Ulster Prince. We sailed out through the Pentland Firth and Scappa Flow; it was only when we left Scappa Flow that we learnt that our destination was to be Norway. In more detail it was explained that we were to be part of a scissor force whose task it was to attempt to cut the German supply lines to Northern Norway where the battle for Narvick was being fought. Narvick apparently was an important source of iron-ore, so very important to the German war effort. It was I remember a very rough crossing with most of us suffering from seasickness. After some three days we landed at the port of Mosjoen in the artic circle, being told that this was the nearest point to the German advance that we could be landed and that the latest reports indicated that they were some few miles south of Mosjoen.

Waiting on the quayside there was a company of the Chasseurs Alpinis, and a detachment of the Foreign Legion, all seemingly very anxious to get on board and sail out of Mosjoen. This was a little worrying as we asked ourselves. Why if experienced troops like this were leaving, why were we going in? However our orders were soon made clear, we were to take up our positions on the high ground and establish a base from where we were to try and make contact with the local Norwegian forces and to carry out patrols to establish our position in relation to the German advancing columns. These patrols I believe went on for a couple of days with very little excitement. Then orders came for us to move a few miles to the south to join up with the Norwegian troops who were to make an ambush on the Germans who had now reached that area. I remember this being a very exhausting effort, as not only did we march but we also had to carry large boxes of ammunition which had to be dragged up to the high ground over looking the bend of the road. The ambush itself was not a complete success. This I think was due to our own inexperience. Firstly we were not certain when to open fire as our first sight of the enemy was a rather extended cycle patrol and not a large body of troops as we had been led to believe. When we did engage the Germans quickly dispersed off the road. Then we were suddenly alerted to the fact that we were under fire from the higher ground behind. This made our position precarious. The only way-out was by crawling along a narrow defile to the shelter of some rocks. We then regrouped and decided to make our way back down to the road and then make our way back to Mosjoen, This we did by literally "speed marching" the whole way, and arriving back at Mosjeon completely exhausted and very conscious of the fact that there was no chance of getting back to our base to recover our stores and equipment. But we where thankful that we got back before the bridge was due to be blown up. I recall here how I was detailed with another soldier to guard two German prisoners in a deserted farmhouse. After a while we both remarked that things were quieter now and what was happening was getting more distant. Realising that we were in a rather isolated position and that the position regarding the prisoners could soon be reversed, we decided to discreetly withdraw. We later caught up with the main body some two miles along the road where an officer and several men were unsuccessfully trying to start an abandoned Norwegian truck. It seemed that the plan now was to head north towards a town called Mo. The next few days proved to be very hard, for one reason having lost all our stores at Mosjoen we had no rations and there was no village or town where we could get any food. We went very hungry for quite a while and felt very dispirited. Added to this several times we came under fire from machine guns and mortars fire. Having very little ammunition we could not hit back, on one occasion we did return fire at a machine gun position; it suddenly went quite and the officer decided we should go forward. To our relief when we got to the post both the German gunners were dead.
Gradually it became obvious that we would not reach the town of Mo, so we moved to the direction of the coast. Here we thought there would be some respite and chance to get some food. I cannot remember the name of the fishing port, but it seemed that nothing had reached there. It looked peaceful enough until we received a message that the Germans had been seen on the quayside. We then hid ourselves on a small fishing boat where we were given food. Then information was received that airborne troops had been see landing on the outskirts of the town. Immediately we hid down below decks and messages were passed by word and mouth from the officer above to us below. The only way out now was by sea in our fishing boat. However it seemed that the skipper would not sail because up ahead was a very fierce eddy of water which was only safe to navigate at certain times of the day. Eventually we did sail. We were told that a little 'persuasion' had to be used to force the issue. Eventually we landed a few miles up the coast. Then followed several days of marching which finally brought us in touch with the main body of independent companies in the region of Fauske and Finneid. This was the first time since Mosjoen that we had been together in any great strength. We stayed at Fauske for quite some time, in fact it became our base and we operated a regular system of patrols; on occasions we received instructions to set up a road block but it was obvious that the Germans were not far away and the Norwegians told us of various parachute landings which had been made in the area. We carried out several patrols but never found any evidence of the Germans having landed. At the roadblocks several people were detained and taken to Bodo. One recollection I have of this time was being on patrol along the fiord when a seaplane appeared to be in difficulty, as his engines were spluttering badly, it came down on the water and taxied out of sight behind a rocky promontory. Thinking of taking some prisoners and boosting our morale our officer commandeered a nearby boat and we set off in pursuit, however as we rounded the promontory the plane started its engines and took off, giving a few burst of fire as a passing shot; lucky for us they were well wide of the retarget. From this point onwards Fauske started to receive more attention from the enemy aircraft, mostly with incendiaries. But then came a more sustained attack causing quite a lot of damage. It was about this time that we were ordered to new positions, further down the road past Finneid and nearer the Swedish border. It was here that we were told to dig in for what was to be the final line of the defense. We were near to a company of Irish guards, the first time that we had been alongside any English troops apart from the independent companies. At last there was an air of confidence as we were now a part of a consolidated line of defense, ready for any attack. Then for some reason we could not understand a conference of all officers was called, and the news was passed down along the line that the Norwegian resistance in that area was at an end. We were now in a very vulnerable position. Two alternatives were put to us. One we could make our way a short distance down the road to the border and face internment in Sweden or secondly retire back along the road and make our way back to Bodo and headquarters. The second of these two alternatives was chosen and we made our way back to the road and marched 40 to 50 miles into Bodo.
This soon proved to be more difficult than we had anticipated, because attacks by low flying aircraft and repeated machine gunning meant we spent as much time in ditches as we did on the road. We were forced to leave the road and take to the higher ground and make our way to Bodo by a much longer and harder route. Another hard, long slog. Arriving on the outskirts of Bodo (Capital Central Norway) we soon realised it was under heavy attack from enemy aircraft and already much of the town was in ruin. After a short while we were ordered into the town to shelter in the ruins and move towards the harbour and quayside. It was then learnt that a destroyer was on its way to the harbour to take us aboard and land us on the coast further north where there were plans being made for a general evacuation of all troops from Norway. This part of the operation was not without its hazards however and it was all conditional on the destroyers not coming under attack, in which case it would back out to sea and wait for a more favorable opportunity to return. The instructions were that section by section we should make our way to the quayside, keeping under cover and await our call to go aboard, when we were called we had so many seconds to run up the gangplank, throw our rifles to the waiting sailors and then to get below decks as quickly as possible. Surprisingly this all went according to plan; by good fortune although heavy bombing was still hitting the town it never reached the harbour. The destroyer wasted no time in putting out to sea. Then followed a sea voyage, which one could never forget. Crowded below decks with little room to even sit-down we were served with steaming hot cups of hot chocolate, which didn't go well with empty stomachs. Added to that the sea was extremely rough and the destroyer went full speed ahead cutting its way through the heavy swell. The reaching and vomiting, which carried on for the next few hours, was unpleasant and revolting. But at least the campaign was now behind us and we were heading away from the fighting our thoughts now were focused more of home and getting back to our families.
 
Dakemp what a wonderful personal account of events by George. Thanks for posting it. Wendy
 
The Commandoes

What a moving but understated account of your relative's service in Norway. So many brave deeds by him and his comrades. You must be very proud of him.
 
Re: The Commandoes

Another story about the Commandoes and how flexible they were. This force was originally sent to Crete to re-take Maleme airfield, but by the time they had arrived there, a full scale retreat was in progress and the island was being abandoned. Freyberg V.C. the island commander then ordered Laycock who was in charge of the commandoes to cover the retreat and to slow the germans advance, thus allowing for as many as possible of the allied soldiers to escape, a mini Dunkerk for example.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=07JIPxjh1HE
 
hi captain
yesthe commandoes was the force to recon with within our military followed by the para .s another hard bunch to tackle
dont get me wrong our other miltary guys was up to the job and our astonian true grit of the royal waricks was cerainly a force
i can say that because i was in the ist regiments of the royal waricks myself so i stand by that comment
a relative of mine about thre years back to enlist for the commandoes and he knew it was gonna be tough to get excepted and so he went for the excams
and the main part of the assault course was extremly force full like it was never was but he failed and never got in ;
they used to say whitting barracks was about the tougest you can get and the biggest years ago in lichfield but theres is the tops
when me and my mate colin joined up we neve knew that we was both joining up until the day we wnt for the medical his father sammy gaskin
and his fore fathers was in the tank regiment so my mate was following his dads family and he was going into the tanks reg
they was based at whittington barracks and i went into the royal waricks and ended up with him there on the assault course and beleive me
compared to other barracks that was the biggest and the toughest but for the commandoes its sheer helll; you hav to be very fit and hardened to get through the elite team [ the A team] best wishes astonian;;;
 
Thanks Astonian, you are right about this special group of soldiers. Sorry to hear that your relative failed to get in.
Hitler and The German high command detested the commandoes, because when ever they went in to action, they caused mayhem, death and destruction, whenever they attacked German instellations i.e. on Fortress Europe. Hitler personally issued a directive that "Any Commandoes captured will be executed".
 
Those true stories were a great read, and showed the quality of the British Army back in WW2.
I also have a story to tell about my father who was in WW2 and never told me about his war, but showed me a few "items" he brought back, one being a German SS Officer trouser belt and a knife which he said he killed the enemy with.
My search for what he did in the war started back in 2004, not long after my father had passed away. I looked through old War records in the Ancestry sites to no avail, no mention of my father.
We happened to go on Holiday down to Bournemouth and went out and about, then one day we decided to go down to Bucklars Hard (Famous for the D Day landings), not far from Beaulieu, we passed a house where my dad always used to stop when we were on holiday down there, I was only young then, it was like a white mansion, and he used to park the car by it, walk over to it, say a few words then get back in the car and drive off. Now 30yrs later I'm doing the same thing, but on this trip to Bucklars Hard in 2004 things would change my Search for Dads war records.
On entering Bucklars Hard Museum they had an exhibition on the SOE (Special Operations Executive) and there on the wall was a photo of young recruits and training, there I saw my Dad within the Photo's, then one of the big white Mansion, where they went through their basic training before going to Beaulieu for further training. We also got more info of the Airfields around the New Forest where the SOE used to fly the Operatives into France and other countries. This took me back 30 yrs again and when as a youngster flying a kite on an old Airstrip where Dad would walk off and stand and seemed he was praying again (although he wasn't religious at all).
This started to fill in more blanks.
We used to go to Scotland many times on Holiday when I was youngster too, and usually ended up by Fort William, where dad did say he had done training in WW2, also further north.
Now fast forward a few years to 2015, and still no records on any Websites, I found my dads old passbook out, show's he joined up in 1939 (age 17, with mothers permission), went in the Warwicks, then Dorsets, followed by Yorks & Lancs by 1941, then 1945 rejoined Lancs, Discharged 1945 (wounded), with all the pages in between ripped out.
I contacted Kew, War Records, to see if I could get his records, filled out all the forms, but came back that his records are either lost or under Secure keeping and not to be released until 100yrs after the end of the war, meaning 2045.
I believe he was eventually recruited for the Commandoes and joined the 30AU Brigade, I did find a photo of him on a website with 30 AU literature, he was a Sergeant by this time, also an experienced Parachutist, as he said after he was shot and had come back to England then recovered, the army wanted him to be a Parachute instructor, to which he told them to shove it up their A**e, lol
He did tell me a bit about his D Day (work) as he called it, and was tasked to take Machine Guns out a bit further inland from Sword Beach. They were parachuted in a few days before D DAY to lie low for orders, they came and they took out 2 guns, but on the third they took a hit and lost 3 in his Brigade, one got hit and fell on top of dad, thus saving dad from the flack as he called it, then Dad made a run up the hill and the grenades went into the Gun shelter and took it out.
Dad and the rest of his brigade were then tasked to move further inland and follow the road to Caen. All I know then is dad got shot in the shoulder with the bulled travelling down his arm and exiting by the elbow, the rest of the Brigade, had to travel on so they dug dad into the side of the road under trees and bushes to wait for assistance (this was now D-Day), he waited for over a day before he was found and rescued to be flown back to Birmingham on a Dakota, then transferred to Burntwood Hospital, where he met his future wife and my mother (nurse).
That's all I know and all he would talk about, but I've told my nephews and hopefully they will be able to research more when and if his records are released or found.
 
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