Sergeant Reginald White
Unit : "A" Company, 8th Parachute Battalion
The following is Reg "Chalkie" White's account of the advance into Germany, courtesy of British Airborne Forces Association (Vic) Inc.
Time was running out for the Third Reich. The 6th Airborne Division had dropped over the river Rhine and having been re-inforced by ground troops, were preparing for the next phase.
After a first night of fierce fighting they commenced the advance on the road to final victory. Joining forces with the Guards Armoured Division, the forward Platoon of "A" Coy, 8th Parachute Battalion, under the command of Lieutenant Maurice Tugwell, were leading the advance, sitting atop the supporting tanks. As they were entering the German town of Minden, they were suddenly met by a hail of fire. Galvanised, the Paras dismounted and took up positions in a deep gully. The Officer shouted, "Sergeant, check the strength of the enemy, around that bend ahead". I crawled along the gully and around the bend and reported back that a Tiger tank, equipped with a standard 88mm gun and supported by infantry, was impeding our advance. We were then ordered by HQ to take cover while our tanks engaged the enemy. Taking advantage of a convenient house, we took cover in the cellar. At a pre-determined signal, we threaded our way through the devastation being wrought by the opposing tanks and detoured around our armoured forces.
As night approached a convenient, large house, overlooking a parkland, beckoned invitingly and so together with my platoon, we accepted the invitation. Because our advance had been so swift, the electrical power was intact, so having posted my sentries I decided to explore the house. A room, which was probably the library, had obviously been abandoned in great haste. Evident everywhere was the unmistakable evidence of great wealth and on the wall was a painting that excited me. As I endeavoured to take it down, to my surprise, it swung out to reveal a small safe. McNight, one of my bren gunners and I, forced it open, to find two watches and some documents inside.
Before settling down to write a letter home, I decided that a glass of the wine standing in a decanter on the sideboard would be appropriate. "Also", I thought, "a cigar from those cigar boxes on the bookshelves, would complete the irony of the situation". The cigar box, one of many, however, contained not cigars, but German currency!!! Pte Baker, a member of my platoon who was familiar with this currency, informed me that I was holding a very large sum of money. Removing my Denison smock, I stuffed notes into every pocket.
We halted, some days later, at a town named Celle. Taking advantage of the time available, Pte Baker and I, went shopping. Borrowing the Company 15cwt truck, we patronised first, a butcher's shop, where waiting to be served, we took pity on an old lady, who was in difficulty, not having sufficient cash to pay for her purchases. I gave her a handful of my acquired 'loot', enough, so Pte Baker informed me, to buy the whole shop. She rushed out of the shop before I changed my mind and we, in turn, bought sausages. Then, it was down to a grocery store. We arrived back with sufficient food to feed the whole platoon!
Advancing, stopping, fighting, then advancing again, constantly repeating the sequence, we eventually reached a town named Ratzlingen, where we took up defensive positions for the night. Instructing my lads to dig in, I traversed the area to check on our supply of ammunition.
Wham!!! Then Oblivion. The impact of the shell, dropped by a German FW190, had hurled me skywards into the branches at the top of a large tree! Fortunately, I was unconscious, as I fell back to earth.
Back in 'Blighty', I was taken to the Royal Hospital, Sheffield. I was very ill and delirious. Because, from the time I was wounded, until then, a period of some days, little attention had been paid to the wounds in my leg and it was now gangrenous. The affected part, high up on my thigh, was so bad that amputation was recommended. Luckily for me, one of the doctors was prepared to experiment with a new drug, 'penicillin'. They injected nine pints of this wonder drug and my leg was saved.
My fellow patients, in the ward, numbered about forty; all ex-POW's from prison camps in Germany, Poland, etc, who were in the process of rehabilitation. During a conversation, mention was made of a coming visit by a paymaster. Curious, I questioned my informant. It appeared that those POW's who had worked on farms had received a small wage in Reichmarks. The object of the visit was to change this money into Sterling. 'Taffy", I said to the Welsh guy, who had lost an eye, and who slept the next bed to mine, "can you find out where they have put my clothes?". He came back with my smock, the money still intact. I divided it between the guys, in both my own and another ward. The paymaster duly arrived, with a suitcase containing an estimated amount of English currency. Needless to say, that amount and the final amount after replenishment, created a state of alarm and bewilderment in the minds of our benefactors.
Any thoughts I have harboured, of returning this 'loot' to it's former owners, have long since dissipated!
END.
Reg White remained in the Army until 1952, also serving with the 9th Battalion and 3rd Parachute Brigade Headquarters.