Jack Harper
I was living in Aston when war broke out. Everybody was saying they won't get here, but I used to say the channel won't stop the bombers, and it didn't. I lived with my grandparents and my uncle, who played for the Villa, also worked at Ansells and he got me a job. I went there at 14, straight from school.
I was 20 when I joined the Scots Guards. I thought I wasn't doing enough, but they said I was helping the war effort; by then I had a job making primers for shells, so I jot a job labouring and I was squaded in August 1943. The first day, you're in a place and you've never met these blokes before, a trained soldier looks after you. A bloke came up and asked where I was from, I said Birmingham, so he said "what are you doing in the Scottish army"? I said there isn't a Scottish or a Welsh army, it's the British army. He was alright with me after that. Out of 35 blokes in our regiment, only 5 were Scottish.
After 11 weeks of training you pass out, on the 12th week. I was really ill, all my kit was ready but I was sick and missed the parade at Perbright. One time when there was an inspection this bloke had got a bad kit, and the Sergeant said "you can't wear that, you'd better put Harper's on". When he was inspected he got a commendation!
Afterwards we were all sent to different places. Twenty of us went to Malton and were attached to 2nd battalion Irish Guards. One morning we went to breakfast and you could have anything you liked, we thought "something's up"! We had to pack up and go to Eastbourne to put grease on tank tracks and Bren gun carriers.
When the invasion started they split the 7th Armoured Division apart. We landed on D-13, the Canadians landed on Gold Beach. When we got to Caen airport, the Yanks had flattened it. We had a packed meal supplied by Heinz. It was bacon and sausage in a tin, tea and milk in cubes, a tin of soup and a pudding. Well I used to love the pudding, so I'd swap this bloke my soup for his pudding. Anyway, we were eating in our foxholes and as we got to the pudding there was such an explosion. It put me straight off! I could never eat it again.
We joined the 3rd battalion Welsh Guards after France. We went for miles in these wagons and saw no fighting. On 7 December we marched into Brussels. We were near the border and I saw the barrel of an automatic rifle sticking through a hedge. I thought from here they could just mow us down. So me and this cockney bloke looked through and found it was just the barrel, but on the other side where was a German tank. There was one bloke having a wash; another hanging up some washing. We shouted hands up, but they wouldn't have it; they threw grenades at us. The cockney got it worse and they sent him home. I got shrapnel in my backside, but had to stay!
One time we were dug in and this bloke was crying. I was frightened, but I didn't let anybody know. We were being shelled with mortar bombs. I said to him "shut up, you're making me nervous"! But he carried on crying. I called the officer over and said "you've got to move either him or me". He took him out and put him in the next trench. A few minutes later, a shell hit that trench and killed them outright.
We got to the borders of Holland and Belgium and they attacked us. We were outnumbered, losing blokes left, right and centre. I was shaking. This Corporal split us and sent us round the sides. He got hit, so I carried him back to first aid and went back. I saw smoke coming from an old brew house. I crept up and there were 3 Germans firing a great gun at our lines. I went and grabbed another bloke and said "I'll throw 2 grenades in, and you fire in a shell". So we did that, and we ran away. We went up to a house at the back and fired on them for 18 hours, but they got us in the end.
They took us up onto the field to a place where they'd got these Germans lined up for burial. I thought they were going to kill us. One said "you've killed 20 of our men". We said they would have killed us if they could. We were marched off to a POW camp. The Yanks would come and bomb everything. They told us we would get up at 4am, get into cattle trucks, and go and fill in craters made by the airforce. We used to stand round these craters all day, never do any work. I was interrogated by the SS. He wanted my number and regiment and where I worked before the war. I lied and told him we made bicycles. I said the British army don't march, we've all got bicycles. He went mad! Shouting at me to get out. There was a picture of Hitler on the wall, and I said to him when we win I'll come back and have that.
They marched us to Austria. Then the Yanks liberated us. In the meantime, I'd collected 6 revolvers from around camp, 2 of them with gems in the handle. I was going to flog them when I got home. They were fetching £100 in Birmingham then. I was one of the last to go. The Yanks gave us massive plates with 3 choices of meat, prunes, custard, fags, matches and coffee. When we got to England they took us to a place to clean up. I'd still got 5 revolvers, but an MP took them all off me. I had 12 weeks' leave and a letter telling me to commence Royal duties.
The war didn't change me as a person. I wish I'd never come out of the army. It was an easier life afterwards. I was demobbed and moved into a house in Aston, the rent was 6 bob a week. A packet came that had 4 medals in it. I wasn't bothered, I just put them in a drawer.
