Mechelen’s Diary: 1939.

July 15th: Still in barracks on the border at L-stadt (fifth week). Everyone is bored and restless, despite the discipline of endless drill and training. Somehow all that activity doesn’t alleviate people’s frustration at not seeing action. Today the senior officers have organised a football match for everyone to watch, to alleviate the boredom and frustration – officers against NCOs, which adds extra spice to the game. Not my thing, so I’ll be staying in barracks and catching up on some reading while it’s quiet.

July 17th: Weather unseasonably grey and wet – regular evening rainstorms at 1800 every day: the wind gets up, the temperature drops, and then the rain whips through for half an hour. Extraordinarily punctual and regular. I’ve never known anything like it at home. The football match was a farce, by all accounts – the pitch was a muddy quagmire, and some of the NCOs used the pretence of competition as a cover for assault on the officers – well, one of the officers (the one that you’d expect everyone to try and hurt, of course). The final score was 3 (NCOs) – 1 (Officers).

August 24th: We’ve moved at last: I travelled (as part of the advanced party) to the border town of H. The usual frustrating chaos at the station, with no-one expecting us, and not enough room for the baggage, which had to follow on the next train, and be collected by cart (when we’d already arrived and settled ourselves in at our billet). Something will have to be done: it’s the same amateurish members who keep letting the unit down. If it were a matter of life and death, something would be done, and people would have to face their responsibilities – but because it’s peace time, no-one forces the decisions. When war comes, things will have to be shaken up, or we will lose too many men because of ineptitude and indecision. Jesus!

The billet is surprisingly clean and well-equipped: the outside is unprepossessingly grimy and dark, but the inside is clean, well-lit and swept, and there were flowers placed in every room – a very pleasant surprise.

August 30th: 4 AM wake-up call. Address by Colonel F. in the town square at 0530. Hot pancakes, jam and cream for breakfast – beautiful. The usual pathetic, uninspiring delivery from F., but at least he made it clear that we’ll be starting to see action soon. The rest of the unit has arrived: much grumbling about inadequate provision of billets, bedding, and food. Colonel F. called an officers’ meeting to discuss the problems: he started off listening carefully, nodding and sympathising, but after 15 minutes of (well-founded) complaints, he lost his patience and temper (as usual) and berated everyone for complaining, insisting that we should all make the best of things as ‘There’s a war on’. No-one pointed out that there wasn’t yet a war. Ho hum.

September 6th: Three days in action. We haven’t stopped. Some of our unit killed, but the enemy is melting away. Incredible mixture of fear and exhilaration in combat – too much to write here, but I will come back to it when things are quieter. Amazing comradeship and stark choices. Too many impressions, and not enough time or words! (Enemy is weak, and their equipment inadequate – we are sweeping them aside with our modern weapons and superior tactics – hurrah!)

September 8th: Colonel F. badly injured (road traffic accident at temporary advanced headquarters) and evacuated to rear; J. has assumed command. That would have been my choice: this can only be good for the unit. Advance continues to make rapid, low-casualty progress. It can surely only be a matter of days now.

September 15th: pulled out of the line two days ago for recuperation and re-equipping. Unit is surprisingly depleted, but we performed exceptionally well. Have received plaudits from the high command (F. expected to receive posthumous medal – died at rear hospital). The enemy is suing for peace. Don’t expect that we will be redeployed until after the fighting is over (J. confirms). Earned our rest: everyone is incredibly tired.

(c. 670 words)