by Michael Tucker
July2009
Photo: Bert Love in 1942 and 2009
Bert Love recalls a tense and mysterious situation during his time in the Mediterranean in 1943. After loading several cases of explosives, their LCF 11 (Landing Craft Flak) left Malta heading north, later cruising up the east coast of Sicily and through the Messina Straits. The objective was to make contact with the Italian partisans just south of Mount Etna, the active volcano. The Marines were to locate two green lights on the beach and unload the cases. Whilst searching for the lights over a dead calm sea and a hazy moonlight and with all guns manned, motors were suddenly heard off their starboard bow. They were identified as three German E-boats in line astern, moving south. Suddenly, the leading boat, which was off the starboard beam, opened fire! By the flashes, it appeared to be a 20mm rapid fire. It gave three bursts, all of which landed short as it moved out of range. The skipper ordered the Marines not to return the fire. But as the second boat passed by, the wake of two torpedos could be seen heading straight for their craft. Whilst they waited in fear for the inevitable explosions, surprisingly nothing happened! As the crew looked in amazement, they saw the torpedos, which had miraculously passed underneath them, heading for the coast. As the guns on shore opened fire with the E-Boats out of range, their skipper turned and headed south. With the operation aborted, they headed back to Malta with the cases of explosives still safe on board.
During debriefing in Malta, their skipper learned that it had been reported earlier that three British Motor Torpedo Boats, returning to Malta after patrolling the Messina Straits to prevent German units crossing to the Mainland of Italy, may have sunk an Italian cargo vessel south of Mount Etna. Unbelievable, but true! It seemed that the skipper of the MTB had to account for two missing torpedos, not admitting that he had made a terrible mistake causing an important mission to be aborted. Bert and his fellow men could only believe what they had been told and add their own experiences to the saga. Many incidents like that can be recalled in the time of war.
Bert Love was born on 3rd January 1922 in the small rural village of West Howe in the Borough of Bournemouth, Dorset, England. Educated at the Primary and Senior State Schools of East Howe, he left school, aged 14, at the end of the school term 1935, and worked for a few years on a poultry and vegetable growing property. All the work on the vegetables was done manually with spade, fork or hoe. It was hard work for 25 shillings he was paid weekly, but a reasonable wage for a teenager on the land in those days.
In 1938 when war in Europe seemed a possibility, the British Government started building military camps throughout Southern England to accommodate a probable military conscription programme to increase Britain’s military strength. Bert was successful in getting work as a carpenter’s labourer at a camp being built at Blandford until the project was complete. With overtime and some weekend work, he was earning up to ₤3. 0s. 0d. per week. From a carpenter’s labourer, he got work in a food distribution warehouse a short distance from home, first as a cleaner and later as a despatch clerk.
In 1939, diplomatic talks held between Britain, France and Germany broke down when German troops marched into the Danzig Region of Poland on 1st September. Britain and France declared war on Germany on 3rd September. On 1st January 1940, a Royal Proclamation called for men between the ages of 20 and 27, to register for Military service to boost Britain’s Military strength to three million men. Men aged 19 were to register, but would not be called for service until reaching the age of 20. Exemptions were for those medically unfit, or those working in classified essential services. Bert was two days short of his 18th birthday when the Proclamation was declared, so would not be required to register until 3rd January 1941. He always felt that he was a year older than the birth date suggested as it was always a disadvantage to be classified a year older at the begging of the year, but he was employed in an ‘Essential Occupation’. As Military service was a requirement at the time, it was not advisable to await registration date if one wanted to get into the service of one’s choice— so many volunteered before registration. All his school friends were liable for call up and he had no intention of being left behind! He was always fascinated in Naval Battleships and Heavy Cruisers spending hours in his childhood making models, with full rigging, rails and rotating gun turrets, details of which he took from a book, Janes Fighting Ships. Bert opted to join the Royal Navy and volunteered for that service in September 1940 before being due for registration in January 1941. But he also had to apply for exemption from the reserved occupation employed in, which took several months to be adjudicated on, but granted later in the year.
Early in 1942, he was called for an interview at the Naval recruiting office in Southampton and, being brought up in a rural village, Sunday school and church was a requirement - mode of transport, the bicycle. Bert was an innocent, blue-eyed lad who nervously took his first train ride to the recruiting office, only to be confronted by a huge man, in a blue uniform with gold stripes and a crown on the upper right arm. He explained that he was a Colour Sergeant of the Royal Marines. He scared the life out of poor Bert!
After calming Bert down, he explained that he was part of the Naval Service, but because of the number of naval ships being sunk by enemy action, recruitment for the Royal Navy had been suspended, but the Royal Marines was another arm of the Navy and Royal Marines always manned the after gun turrets on Capital Ships. Bert had no idea of the existence of this service. It sounded alright, so he accepted the Colour Sergeant’s advice and signed up. What a sucker!
From mid 1942, Bert completed his ‘Square bashing’ at Eastney Barracks in Portsmouth and gunnery and sea training on HMS Nelson, followed by field training, assault courses, route marches and target practise with rifles and bren guns at the 17th Century Fort Gomer, Gosport. Next, was a ‘Toughening Up’ at Daldwich, the Marine Naval Base Defence Organization. On returning to Eastney Barracks they were billeted in guest houses, commandeered by the Defence Department, on the sea front at Southsea. Joined by other Marines from Plymouth and Chatham they proceeded to Sheerness to become part of a Landing Craft crew, LCF 11, an Anti -Aircraft Support Craft converted from a Mark 3 Tank Landing craft, with a combined Naval Marine crew: 58 Marines, 8 Royal Navy with RN skipper and armed with four 2 pounder pom poms, eight 20 mm oerlekons and four smoke canisters.
After extensive sea exercises, they joined up with a convoy of other landing craft and sailed for Gibralter, March 1943. During the voyage the weather was so bad that they very nearly had to abandon ship. A few months of patrolling the North African coastline, Port Said and Malta, a convoy of hundreds of landing craft and ships left Malta and carried out a successful landing on Sicily’s south coast puting thousands of troops and equipment ashore by the end of the first day. After the capture of Catania on the east coast, the LCF 11 returned to Malta. In August it left Malta heading north arriving at Catania several days later joining up with other support LCGs and LCTs to head up the Messina Strait, past Mount Etna, spewing out smoke and ash, arriving at Messina, the main port in north Sicily, which had been captured by the Allies on 17th August.
On 3rd September, after two days of heavy bombardment by British battleships, they were part of the landings at Reggio on the Italian mainland. Troops were landed with little resistance, the Germans having retreated inland. The support craft moved further north up the west coast to Vibo, Valentia, Scalea and finally Salerno where they learned that the Italians had surrendered, leaving the Germans to fight on alone in Europe.
In March 1944, in convoy with other craft they left Gibraltar for Swansea, a safe haven while south east coastal areas were preparing for the second front in Europe. The LCF was decommissioned and after two weeks leave and short stay in Barracks, the crew split up many going on to other LCFs. Bert and two other Corporals were sent to Southampton where they became part of a crew on a LCG (Large) (Landing Craft Gun) No.939. It was armed with two manual breach loading ex destroyer 4.7 inch guns, seven 20 mm twin oerlekon anti-aircraft guns and four smoke canisters.
On 5th June, D-Day, despite stormy weather conditions, they set off, forming up with hundreds of ships and various types of Landing Craft south of the Isle of Wight. There were hundreds of craft as far as the eye could see being protected from low flying enemy aircraft by hundreds of barrage balloons tethered to their decks. It was a most impressive sight. They had been briefed several days before of the operation in which they were to take part, each being handed the message from the Supreme Headquarters Allied Expeditionary Force, and signed by Dwight Eisenhower, so they knew the task in hand. LCG (L) 939 was part of the Support Squadron Eastern Flank, attached to the British 4th Special Service Brigade in support of 41 and 48 RM Commando, to secure the beaches, the town of Quisterham and the Caen Canal. It was also expected that the City of Caen would be in their hands within the first 24 hours. The LCGs bombarded the shore defences while Naval ships further out, firing over their heads, shelled inland targets. At the end of the first day Sword beach was secure and the Commando ashore.
They were given many targets from Spotters on shore over the next few days, but a new threat had come from attacks on their supply ships from the port of LeHavre to the east. For the next three months they did nightly patrols off LeHavre combating attacks by German EMBs (Explosive Motor Boats), and Human Torpedos. An EMB was an aluminium boat, propelled by a petrol engine with a bow packed with explosives piloted by one man. They would motor or paddle, out from LeHavre at night, very silently, line up a ship, fully throttle the engine, jump off the rear, driving the boat and detonating it into a ship. The Human Torpedo was an explosive torpedo, slung underneath a dummy unit carrying one man, only visible by his head in a clear plastic dome above the water. The devices were most effective when the sea was calm with light moonlight. The strategy for the Marines was to anchor as close to shore, under cover of darkness, within sight of another craft, far enough out from shore so as not to be a target for coastal defences, keeping a lookout for those contraptions. They had to make sure that they left the area just before sunrise so as not to be targets for German shore batteries.
On one such night, before sunrise, coastal guns opened fire on the patrol, probably longer range guns being brought in during daylight. Water spouts were getting closer and closer, so the skipper weighed anchor and headed out of range. But not before a shell had exploded in the water off the starboard after Oerlekons. The blast threw those who were standing near the gun, across the deck into the 4.7 gun turret. Bert and others were knocked out! When we came round, the 939 was speeding away from the line, named the ‘Trout Line’. Luckily, Bert was not badly injured. He had no flesh wounds, but in the gun well was one dead and his co-gunner badly injured. Shrapnel from the shell had penetrated the dead Marine’s steel helmet, killing him instantly. Later that day, in a traditional Naval Service, they buried him at sea off Sword Beach, whilst the injured were transferred to a L.C.I. medical Craft. On another occasion, one of the lookouts spotted a plastic dome approaching off the starboard beam. It was too close for an Oerlekon to be lowered to fire at it, so someone went below and grabbed a rifle, but by the time the rifle was loaded, it was alongside. As they waited anxiously for the mine to explode, nothing happened! The pilot, or whoever it was, had not planted a mine, but was simply lost and was trying to get back to LeHavre, they thought!
Being four months on a landing craft, off the Normandy coast and not setting foot on land once, was tiring and monotonous. They were very pleased when LeHavre was finally in British hands and they left Normandy in late September. They arrived back in England, decommissioned 939 in Poole and sent on 14 days leave with instructions to return to HMS Robertson, a former internment camp at Sandwich, Kent. With sea legs buckling under the intensive square bashing, they were subjected to some strenuous training and classified by the drill Sergeant as, ‘Rabble’! In mid October some of the former 939 crew were sent to Gravesend where they were joined another Landing Craft Flak LCF 24, another b....y LCF! Finally they went to Ostend in Belgium and Walcheren, and spent Christmas and January in Hansweert and Wembledinge —inland on one of the Canals in the Netherlands.
The reason for the Walcheren landings , was that although the port of Antwerp was in Allied hands, it could not be used whilst the Germans still occupied the heavily fortified island which controlled the entrance to the ‘Westerscheldt’ (waterway running into Antwerp from the North Sea). A few of the support craft were deployed to areas in the canals as the Germans still occupied some areas in the North of Holland and Denmark. They were kept there for several months in case of a surprise attack. The craft deployed in Holland, including LCF 24, returned to Poole in England in March 1945, when they were given 7 days leave. On return it was back to 24. After a couple of weeks in Poole, mostly square bashing, they set off again to the west, making what was described as ‘Victory Calls’ along the coast, spending a few weeks in places like Portland, Torquay, Plymouth and Fowley in Cornwall.
It seemed to them that the ‘Victory Calls’ had been well planned, as when they were moored in Fowey on the 8th May, news came through that Germany had agreed to surrender to the Allied Forces. Fowey was dead as a country village, so what happened to the rest of the Royal Marines on VE Day? At the end of May, it was back to Poole and the decommissioning of LCF 24. A big parade was held to hear the Support Squadron Eastern Flank Commanding Officers disbanding the Support Squadron and passing the Marines on to the confines of the dilapidated HMS Robertson! There was not a lot of enthusiasm amongst the old crew. ‘Belsen’, as it had come to be known, lived up to its earlier reputation, this time being educated on the history and exploits of the Japanese with the probability that some of the Marines would be re-grouped and retrained for the Pacific campaign.
However, on 15th August 1945, the Japanese surrendered and they suddenly became redundant, therefore, they were not needed for future plans. Then added to the humiliation and as the SSEF had disbanded, they were stripped of the Combined Operations insignia from their tunics, and also the red flash from their berets. But there was more to come to add more humiliation to the shattered ego. Some of the Corporals were detailed, in fatigue dress, to take numbers of the Marines out to some of the vegetable farms in and around Sandwich, to harvest such things as peas, beans, onions and even potatoes into sacks. That went on for weeks, and then Bert was detailed to take his section to the Pickle Factory in Sandwich to help process the b....y things, as the factory was short of seasonal labour. At that time they were told that demobilisation for them was probably 15 to 18 months away. Bert was determined that he was not going to waste time in the Corps and at that time the authorities were calling for volunteers to transfer to the RAF Regiment, which didn’t appeal to him, so he applied for a transfer to the Royal Army Service Corps, which was granted under the condition that he signed on for an initial period of two years, which he did. So, he left the Marines in January 1946. On his arrival at the RASC depôt at Croydon, he immediately volunteered for an overseas posting. Within three weeks he was fitted out with tropical kit and went on board the troopship Mataroa with a company of the Suffolk Regiment, a few Army bods and 400 West Indians who were still in RAF uniforms, being repatriated back to their own islands after serving in the RAF as ground crew staff during WWII. After two weeks spent in Kingston, Jamaica, they moved on to the Bahamas and finally, minus the West Indians, they arrived in Bermuda with the Suffolk Regiment. They were to relieve the ‘Pictoo Highland Regiment, a Canadian Regiment that had just completed its two year assignment there in ‘Prospect Barracks’. Some of those islands, part of the British Empire, at the request of their Governments maintained a security force during and after WWII. Bert returned to England via Canada on the ss Aquintania, used then as a Troopship, and was demobbed in Jan. 1948.
Before demob, they were offered the choice of being discharged in one of the Commonwealth countries - Canada, Australia or New Zealand - with a free passage, or being discharged in Britain and agree to emigrate to one of those countries within two years, under the ten pounds assistance scheme, as a single person. Bert chose Australia.
In November 1949, Bert Love emigrated to Australia.