Sergeant Frank Ashleigh / Greenbaum

Unit : "A" Squadron, No.1 Wing, The Glider Pilot Regiment

Army No. : 14417002

The following account was written by Martin Sugarman, based on an interview with Frank Ashleigh (Greenbaum).

Frank was born a true Cockney in Collingwood Street, Stepney on 23 December 1924, son of Isaac Greenbaum a tailor from Russia, and Annie, both Jewish immigrants. Frank attended Castlewood Road school in Stamford Hill (to where his parents had moved in 1927) and then continued to Upton House Secondary School in Homerton, Hackney, leaving school at aged just 14 years. When war broke out Frank lived at 480, Finchley Road opposite the then Regal cinema and was taking a course in welding whilst working at T C Jones, one of the George Cohen group of companies. He had meanwhile joined the 1st Cadet Battalion, Royal Fusiliers, becoming a Corporal, and then moved to work at Strachan's coachbuilders in Acton, using his welding skills, becoming an Aircraft Inspection Department approved welder.

On his 18th birthday he volunteered for the army (23rd December 1942 - Note: His AJEX Jewish Chaplain card says February 1942 and spells his first name alternatively as Ashley). At first Strachan's refused to release him as he was doing war work on military vehicles; but they soon relented. He was sent to Arnold near Nottingham for basic training, then to REME at Woolwich Arsenal, where he did further arc and acetylene welding courses at Letchworth and Cricklewood, although he was already proficient at both skills. Later he was posted to the Odeon Garage, Southend, Essex. Here he was made a Regimental Policeman in a vehicle depot overseeing the movement of Dodge 3 ton lorries.

Later he was transferred to the RE at Larkhill where he met Jewish Chaplain Rev. P. Cohen and was given his prayer book and Book of Jewish Thoughts. While at his base he saw orders posted asking for volunteers for the Glider Pilot Regiment. Frank immediately signed up with two friends, Norman Kellet and Arthur Hepstintall and in London he passed the aptitude tests in early 1944; sadly, his friends failed. He was then sent to Fargo camp, Salisbury Plain, which Frank describes as six weeks of hell on earth. Here the physical training was intense with 5 mile march-runs with field order packs, before eating breakfast was allowed. However, "Let's go round again" was more often the rule. Massive attention was paid to "bull", such as highly polished boots and hobnails for all parades - anything to see if the recruits had the physical and mental stamina to stay the course! The food, however, was excellent. If you were ordered RTU (Returned to Unit) this meant, says Frank, having your pay book marked LMF (Lack of Moral Fibre); this was a big incentive to stay. Conversely, if you asked to be "RTU", then there was no stigma attached.

The PT instructor was nick-named Garth , after the Daily Mirror cartoon strong man character. After the six weeks was up, the remaining recruits were promoted to Corporal and were allowed to enter the Corporal’s mess; at the entrance to the mess was a beautifully drawn mural of a hideous looking devil, with the remark underneath, "So you want to be a Glider Pilot?". This acted as a catalyst, says Frank and after this ritual and the promotion, nobody ever requested RTU.

Until then Frank wore his RE cap badge. From Fargo, Frank was sent to Booker Camp in Buckinghamshire, from where they travelled each day to Denham airfield near Uxbridge to start flying training on Tiger Moths. It was here he had a bizarre experience. His instructor asked him to board an aircraft, but on starting the engine Frank felt uneasy and declared the plane US (unserviceable). They flew another instead. That afternoon they boarded the same aircraft that Frank did not like, and he again told the instructor it was US. The instructor asked Frank if he was refusing to fly and he replied he was happy to fly but not in that aircraft.

Next day Frank's friend Roy Roberts took of in the aircraft with his instructor and at 50 feet the engine failed and they crashed. Nobody was hurt but Frank has never been able to explain his sense of foreboding.

Frank was able to go solo after only 7 hours flying. After 10 hours flying experience, he was posted to Stoke Orchard in Gloucestershire. He recalls seeing a Jewish Chaplain and was given the usual small Jewish Soldiers prayer book and "Book of Jewish Thoughts" but does not recall any facility for attending services.

At Stoke Orchard Frank began training on the small Hotspur Gliders, which had two pilots in tandem and carried about 8 passengers, towed up by Miles Masters aircraft. It was there on June 6th on a training flight, that he heard on the radio , gunnery instructions from Allied ships being given for the landing beaches in Normandy.

After this came North Luffenham in Leicestershire – the HGCU; here he learned to fly the Horsa heavy glider, towed by Whitley bombers, practising both high (above the tug slipstream) and low towing. After qualifying on this he was promoted to Sergeant and was presented with his wings - the Army Flying Badge - which consisted of a cloth badge of two wings with a lion in the centre surmounted by a crown, worn on the left breast like an RAF pilot; the metal cap badge was worn on a red beret and was a flying eagle above the AAC (Army Air Corps) initials. (Today's AAC badge - whose members fly mostly helicopters - has the Eagle facing the opposite way, possibly to distinguish it from the now disbanded GPR. Their beret is light blue in colour).

Posted to "A" Sqdn. at Harwell, Frank was now operational. He still has a coin buried there as the tradition was that you buried a sixpence so you had to come back for it! Many Glider operations from here were prepared, but then cancelled, as the Allies were moving so fast into Europe. Posted to Blakehill Farm near Bournemouth, Frank and his comrades were told that it was a secret airfield and nobody was to talk about its location. As a result, when leave was given they were taken by lorry to London and met in London for the return journey, with no indication on the passes where they were from. Due to this, Frank was arrested by MP's and taken to The Provost Marshall's office at Scotland yard for not revealing where his station was. Eventually General Browning himself (OC Airborne Troops) came on the phone to the Provost Marshall and ordered Frank's release. He was given a lift in the PM's private car back to his home in Finchley.

Then came Arnhem in September 1944. Frank was given very little briefing, and mainly spent time checking the loading of his Horsa for the operation at Harwell. He discovered to his horror that the quick release pins securing the glider's load had been incorrectly inserted so as to make rapid exit from the Glider fatally slow; he had them all changed. His Horsa carried a jeep and two trailers, all heavily tarpaulined, with crews, totalling six men of the RASC Air Landing Brigade. Frank later discovered the trailers contained one of only two radar sets sent to Arnhem, and his was the only one to arrive safely.

A Stirling Bomber began towing them for take off but as they got almost airborne, an engine failed and Frank immediately turned the glider to the left as the aircraft went to the right to keep the runway clear, as they skidded to a halt. A tug recovered the glider quickly and they then took off eventually, but last of all in the flight. It was Monday 18th September.

The journey to Arnhem was uneventful except the telephone between him and the tug failed to work. However they were able to use Morse code with a torch to speak to each other via the Stirling's rear gunner. His co-pilot was an ex-Fleet Air Arm pilot named Bernard "Lofty" Cummins; he was sadly killed later in the battle.

The landing was quite peaceful just north of Wolfheze, with unloading carried out without enemy interference, surrounded by other Gliders. Their passengers got away and Frank and Lofty were ordered to the Hartenstein Hotel at Oosterbeek, but at Wolfheze they were told to bivouac. Here they saw many German POW's enclosed in a tennis court and a German FW109 flew over. The pilot dived, waved and smiled; he clearly thought they were a German army unit! Next day they continued their journey and found a café about 9pm, on the left as they entered Oosterbeek, and they slept in the cellar.

Next morning they got to the Hartenstein and that afternoon were sent out on patrol to Oosterbeek town. Now acting as infantry as expected, they carried Enfield .303 Rifles. Frank later also obtained a sten gun. There was much fighting going on and Frank actually walked by the now famous scene of the German Staff car with its dead senior officers hanging outside the doors.

With a Capt. O'Malley and two others, Glider Pilots named Ray Osborne and Wag Watson, they entered Oosterbeek. Suddenly realising they were cut off, they dived into a church as a large group of German troops approached from behind them. As the Germans entered the church, they decided to scale the stairs and get into the roof space. Frank later discovered they were SS Troops of the Hermann Goering Division.

Realising they had not been seen, they made for a small window in the roof space; for three days they acted as snipers from this location, firing only one round every hour or so and managing to dispose of many enemy troops. From just inside the roof and window, their gun-smoke could not be seen and the Germans had no idea where they were.

After three days without food and water, they went down to the organ loft. Frank found a long pole down which he slid and obtained a rope and water which was pulled up to his comrades and then they pulled him up.

Eventually the Germans began to investigate the church. The door of the organ loft opened and Capt. O'Malley was shot in the stomach; he then quite understandably decided he had better give himself up and, possibly being in shock, said there were three more men inside. A German Officer then came in to the church and out of sight he called out in perfect English, that they had 10 minutes to come down with hands up, else they start firing. In that ten minutes they destroyed their firing pins to make their rifles useless and shortened their grenade fuses to a split second so if used by the Germans they would blow up when the pin was removed! They then had to surrender.

The Germans dragged the priest of the church before the men and tried to implicate him but Frank and his comrades genuinely had not met him and said they did not know who he was. This must certainly have saved his life.

Meanwhile he was reported missing on 25th September 1944 and this was announced in the Daily Telegraph on 16th October 1944.

The SS troops treated them very well . Frank told them in schoolboy German they had not eaten for three days and they were given food. The Glider men looked at it suspiciously but a sergeant (Feldwebel) said it is OK and he ate a piece from each of the three plates to show it was not poisoned. All personal items were stolen from them of course, but they had made sure they had destroyed or hidden their daggers.

From here they were taken that day by truck to an interrogation centre at Oberusal, not far from Arnhem, where Frank had his POW mug shot photo taken, which still survives; it clearly shows the edge of his GP wings on his breast pocket. When questioned, the only answers they gave were name, rank and number.

Treatment, including food, at the centre was initially good but he and everyone else were slapped a few times on the face by interrogators and his nose was injured. Frank says these Germans were not fighting men and unlike enemy soldiers did not respect other soldiers. There was also some confusion as the Germans expected all pilots to be officers but Glider Pilots and some Fighter Pilots often were Flight Sergeants too. The Germans did not quite know what to do with Sergeant Pilots!!

From here Frank was taken in appalling railway cattle trucks on an awful journey east to a POW camp. The POW's were packed in and each truck contained a barrel of water; every 8 hours or so they would stop and a slice of bread was distributed to each man. Finally they arrived at Stalag Luft VII in Upper Silesia at Bankau near Opole in modern day Poland. This was a small and quite modern camp for the RAF. Food was poor but every other week Red Cross parcels were distributed without fail. However, every can of food had been punctured to prevent storage for escape attempts and so it had to be eaten relatively quickly. They did find a way of heating the cans, expelling the air and re-sealing, however. There were escape attempts but Frank remembers that all of them failed.

Frank met one other Jewish POW who had been in the Intelligence Corps; he had removed his cap badge as a result. His name ended in Zac and may have been Melzac or Karzac; he later became a Metropolitan Police Inspector. There were the usual committees for escape and entertainment and "Goon baiting". On one occasion, Frank had a raging toothache; he was allowed to go with an elderly driver in a car to a dentist to a nearby town so long as he gave his word not to escape; this he did in order not to jeopardise others the chance to get medical attention.

Some of the guards were good humoured and laughed at the POW's making jokes about them, especially on morning parades. However it was no fun when in the January of 1945, the POW's were made to carry out one of the notorious Forced Marches, in freezing conditions, over the Oder, to escape the approaching Soviets. There were about 800-1000 men on Frank's march, moving from camp to camp. Many were seen by Frank having died of exhaustion and hypothermia on the road side though Frank says he saw nobody actually killed as happened on other marches. The guards did what they could; Frank says that it was mainly the older POW's who died as they were weakened by lack of food. Where they could the POW's never abandoned those who were still alive, but if they died en route they had to be left. One night he and two others hid in some brick ovens in a factory, hoping to avoid the march next day and await the Allies, but they were caught.

They finally reached a huge Army POW camp (Stalag III-A) south of Berlin. Here there were thousands of Russian POW's. He recalls the horror of seeing them, starved and wretched; the British did not have much food but what they could spare they gave to the Russians by throwing it over the fences.

Then one morning in April they woke and found that the guards had gone; soon massive Russian tanks arrived - "like saving angels" Frank says - and they were liberated. The Russians caught the camp Commandant but handed him over to the Russian POW's who slaughtered him. The British POW's were treated like great heroes and the Russians were hugely kind to them, Frank remembers.

Frank also remembers clearly that one of the first things he did was to get into the Administration Offices of the camp and destroy his papers that said he was Jewish; although the Nazis were defeated he was still afraid that they might exact revenge if they caught him again.

Within 48 hours, they were taken to an airfield and flown home in, Frank thinks, Dakotas; and were sent to a camp near Slough. Fortunately Frank had an aunt in Slough whose husband was in the RAMC and stationed in a nearby camp. He pulled a few strings and got Frank a pass to visit his auntie!

When Frank got home, he was given six weeks repatriation leave with double civilian rations. Frank's mother showed him a card she had from the War Office saying he had failed to return from a patrol and was believed POW. She also received a couple of POW cards from him in Germany. She sent him cards but he never got them. He does not know where his cards are now. He was then posted to London District Hostel Unit, where he was ordered to oversee the conversion of some houses in Rochester Way into dormitories for troops on leave. Finally he was demobbed at Woking.

After the war Frank was a Company Director in the toy trade until his retirement at aged 72; but he remained active in the community and was given a citizenship award by his local Council and the Mayor of London for "making an outstanding contribution to London life".

Frank returned to the church at Oosterbeek some time after the war. Amazingly, the cartridge cases from their weapons were still there in the loft. Wearing his Airborne Pegasus tie, he was stopped many times by local Dutch people - including young children - and invited to have meals and drinks with them. Since 2002 he has been back several times with wife Mavis and his two sons, ( who have given him 3 grandchildren) usually with the Glider Pilot Association. Every year he was "on parade" at the Annual Remembrance Parade at the Cenotaph in Whitehall, and the following Sunday with the Jewish War Veterans, Kenton contingent, of AJEX . He and Mavis have been married for over 60 years.

His medals are the 1939-45 and France and Germany Stars, Defence Medal, and War Medal. He was also awarded the "Thank you Liberators" medal by the Dutch government.

END.

The following is an alternative account of the above, published in The Eagle; the magazine of the Glider Pilot Regiment:

Frank Ashleigh was born on the 23rd December 1924 in Collingwood Street, east London, a true Cockney. The family, mother, father and elder sister moved to Stamford Hill, north London in 1927. He was educated, first at Castlewood Road primary school and then, having passed the Junior County examination, (forerunner to the 11 plus) at Upton House. April 1939 saw the family move again to Childs Hill in north-west London and his leaving school at the tender age of 14.

Deciding he needed training to enable him to earn a living, he was apprenticed to firm manufacturing equipment for dental surgeries. After a few months he decided that this was not for him and he left and engaged on a course to learn arc welding with a company named Actarc, whose working name was Active Arc, manufacturers of arc-welding equipment and welding rods. With today's knowledge they could not produce those rods as, instead of being flux coated they were wound with asbestos as an anti-oxidant.

Then came his introduction to the military when he joined the 1st. Cadet battalion Royal Fusiliers, rising to the dizzy rank of Corporal. September '39 saw the outbreak of war and his going to work at T.C. Jones, part of the George Cohen 600 group of engineers and then on to Strachans Ltd. In Park Royal a firm of coachbuilders. They were impressed with his welding skill, and through them he became an A.I.D. (Aircraft Inspection Department) approved welder.

On his 18th birthday he volunteered for the army. Being in a reserved occupation, release was opposed by Strachans as they were engaged in the building of military vehicles, but eventually they did release him and the following February he received his calling-up papers to report to Arnold camp in Nottingham for primary training. Having completed the course and being considered a 'trained soldier' he was posted to R.E.M.E. and sent to Woolwich Arsenal to await final posting. This did not come for a considerable period as the authorities thought he might benefit from a course to learn to weld, so it was off to Letchworth Garden City to learn arc welding and then to the British Oxygen Company in Cricklewood to learn gas welding, skills in which he was already proficient, having learned gas welding at Strachans.

He was finally posted to the Odeon Garage in Southend on Sea, where, because he was a Craftsman with welding skills, he was made a Regimental Policemen with duties of logging the comings and goings of a fleet of Dodge three tonners, though where they went and what they did when they got there he never knew. It was there that he read that applications were invited to join the Glider Pilot Regiment.

Together with two of his friends, Norman Kellet and Albert Heptinstall, both from Yorkshire, he put his name down and they were sent to London for 'flying aptitude' assessment. Frank was accepted but both of his friends were rejected. He subsequently received orders to report to Fargo Camp, Larkhill, on Salisbury Plain. On reporting there everybody was a little excited to see, on marching down the main road to see the words 'flying kit' on the door of a Nissan Hut. Then followed six weeks of mental and physical torture designed to weed the wheat from the chaff. The P.T. instructor was good but relentless. He was nicknamed 'Garth' after the Daily Mirror cartoon character. Each morning there would be a run-march, sometimes in battle order. If completed in the allotted time, breakfast, if not, 'let's go round again' a phrase that was to become familiar to all once flying started.

There was bags of b……t. Beds were to be laid out to a strict plan for daily inspection and woe betide anyone who failed to meet the specified lay-out. Boots were to be polished until you could see your face in them. At any time, a volunteer could request R.T.U. (Return to Unit) there being no stigma attached, but should any of the many instructors order R.T.U. for any of the trainees, the letters L.M.F. (Lack of Moral Fibre) would be on his records. After surviving for six weeks, all were promoted to Corporal and for the first time entered the Corporal's Mess to be greeted at the door by a painting of a hideous grinning devil and the words 'SO YOU WANT TO BE A GLIDER PILOT.' From that moment on, nobody requested R.T.U. Then it was off to an airfield at Booker for primary flying training in the Tiger Moth biplane, designed in 1931. Some flew from Booker whilst others, including Frank were bussed each morning to another field at Denham. It was there that he had a weird experience.

With his instructor he was listed to fly. They mounted, the erk swung the prop and the engine started. He had a sense of uneasiness and put the plane U.S. (unserviceable). They went up in another plane. In the afternoon, the first plane having come back from the hangar he was again scheduled to fly it and again he put it U.S. His instructor asked if he was refusing to fly. He replied that he was not going up in that plane but was perfectly happy to fly another one. The following day, Roy Roberts, another pupil, and his instructor flew it. It took off, climbed to about fifty feet, the engine cut, the prop froze, it stalled and crashed. Fortunately neither Roy nor his instructors were damaged, unlike the plane, that was severely bent. Both Roy and his instructor, after being checked over by the M.O. were back in the air very quickly. Just like falling off a horse, remount as soon as possible. He has never been able to explain his feeling of misgiving.

After about seven hours of dual flying came the big day when, after circuits and bumps, they taxied to the admin building, the instructor got out of the front cockpit, fastened the seat belt and said, 'Off you go, do one circuit and land.' His first solo. Then came more solo and dual flights until transfer to an airfield at Stoke Orchard in Gloucester and introduction to the beautiful Hotspur glider and the Miles Master tugs. Once the trainees had learned what you could do, or could not do in a plane without an engine, it was seven days leave and then of to North Luffenham in Leicester to meet the fabulous Horsa glider and the Whitley twin-engine tug used to tow it. All tuition was first in high tow, above the tug's slipstream and then once reasonably competent in the more comfortable low tow, always remembering to return to high tow before pulling off. Then, eventually came graduation, promotion, the presentation of 'Wings' or to use the army's terminology, The Army Flying Badge and posting to an operational squadron, in his case 'A' Squadron based at Harwell, subsequently the Atomic Research Establishment.

Frustration now became the order of the day with sixteen operations planned and then cancelled due to the speed of the Allied advance over-running the targets before the gliders got off the ground. Then came Operation Market Garden. Frank was scheduled to fly on the second lift on Monday 18th September. His glider was carrying a Jeep with two trailers and four men. Although he did not know it at the time, the Jeep and trailers were loaded with a radar set, one of two that were sent, but the only one that arrived. On inspecting the loading of the Horsa he found that all of the split-pins securing the quick-release fastenings had been bent right back. All had to be removed and replaced. With many combinations they lined up on the runway and were hooked up to their Stirling tug. On the take-off run, the Stirling lost an engine. Fortunately neither the glider nor the tug were airborne, so the glider pulled off, was recovered by a tractor and towed back to the mouth of the runway. The compressed air bottle was recharged and eventually they got off the ground. No further problems arose other than communication between the glider and tug by means of the telephone line between them was impossible due to a dreadful whistling. The flight was uneventful only meeting light resistance both in the air and on the ground.

The Horsa made a safe full-flap landing on the designated LZ (Landing Zone) the tail was removed the load drove off at high speed and neither pilot ever saw them again. Then it was off to Wolfhaze where they spent the night. Whilst there, a German F.W.190 flew over, quite low. The pilot seemingly thinking that we were German troops opened his canopy and gave a friendly wave before flying away. In the morning, off to Oosterbeek to dig in in the grounds of the Hartenstein, once the H.Q. of the German General Model, and then the H.Q. of the airborne division.

That afternoon, Frank, together with three other men was on a patrol. They had gone about a quarter of a mile and realised that they were surrounded. Being unable to get back to the Hartenstein, they took cover in the roof of the Beranulphus R.C. church. In the roof, they found a catwalk running the full length of the building with a small rectangular window at the far end. The window was opened very cautiously and seeing some enemy solders a short distance way, opened fire. Realising that the enemy did not know that they were there, they decided to lay low, and just fire the odd round or three at irregular intervals. They remained there for three days, by which time they had used most of the ammunition. Sadly, one of their number was shot and decided to give himself up. He was probably in shock as it seems he told the Germans that there wee three more British soldiers in the roof. We were given five minutes to surrender, time used to disable our weapons, before going down with our hands up. The Germans were told that they had not eaten for three day Food was immediately supplied.

Then off to an interrogation centre, (name number and rank only) he was sent to Stalag Luft 7 to remain there until early in 1945 until the infamous Long March over the Oder to an enormous POW camp near to Berlin. He stayed there until the camp was liberated by advancing Russian forces. They, on seeing the dreadful condition of the Russian POWs in the camp were none too gentle with the few German guards they captured. Repatriation by air followed, six weeks leave on double civilian rations and return to duty. Finally demobilisation at a centre in Woking, the issue of a suit etc. and return to civilian life.

One thing still bugs him. What happened to the B.S.A. bicycle he left at Harwell and where is it now?

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