Corporal William Halliwell

Unit : "H" Company, 2nd South Staffordshires.

Bill Halliwell was born in St Helens, Lancashire, on the 21st February 1921. He joined the South Staffordshire Regiment when he was 17, serving on the North West Frontier in India in 1939 with the 2nd Battalion before they returned to Britain to be converted to the airborne role.

Corporal Halliwell flew to Sicily in Glider No.53, carrying one of the 2nd South Staffordshires two anti-tank guns. The following is his account of joining the Army, his time with the Staffords and their part in the Sicily and Italian campaigns. Courtesy of British Airborne Forces Association (Vic) Inc.

On 20th June 1938, having inadvertently broken a guillotine machine at work, I was informed by my employer that I would be compelled to pay the cost of repair and suspended for six weeks. Too scared to go home and suffer a beating, I walked to the Naval Depot at Liverpool to enlist in the Navy. However, unfortunately no new recruits were required, so I then walked to Widnes and Runcorn, then on to Warrington.

I reached Oxford Barracks, the Training Depot of the South Lancashire Regiment during the following morning. The Recruiting Sergeant, having established that I was 17 years and 4 months old, informed me that he could not accept my application to join the Regular Army because I was under the minimum acceptable age of 18 years. My feet at this stage were terribly sore, owing to the fact that I had walked all this way in clogs, leather uppers, but wooden soles with supporting irons. The sergeant, realising that I was starving, took pity and gave me a good meal. Then he, together with an Army Captain, after a phone call to confirm their plan, informed me that I could join for six months, together with five and a half years on the Supplementary Reserve. I promptly accepted the offer, went to the main office and was sworn in by yet another officer. Then I was given a pair of boots, new socks and a railway warrant. I was then sent, by taxi, to Warrington Station where I caught a London bound train, with instructions to alight at Lichfield, catch a connecting train to Lichfield City and then a bus to Whittington Barracks. However, the train arrived at Lichfield well after midnight and the station was deserted, not a soul around; so I curled up on a platform seat.

I finally left the station, not knowing either the time or the direction of my destination, until I came across an old farm-worker, who pointed me in the general direction of the barracks. Exhausted, hungry and thirsty I eventually saw a light in the distance, which thankfully was the barracks, in fact the Depot of the South Staffordshire Regiment. It was 3.50 am and escorted by one of the guards to the storeroom, the storeman was aroused and gave me three blankets, some biscuits, bed sheets and allocated a spot on which to bed down. Desperately tired I was soon asleep, only to be soon rudely awakened and ordered by a lance-corporal to polish the barrack room floor with a very heavy machine known as 'The Bumper'. Because I hadn't jumped straight out of bed at the first command, I was made to polish the floor, up and down, three times.

There were about thirty of us in the barrack room, all recruits, of whom I was by far the youngest. We were formed into a squad designated 'June Squad 1938'. They were all 5-year or 7-year Reservists. All good guys mostly from Staffordshire.

At the outbreak of WWII, I was posted to the 2nd Battalion, the South Staffs, under the command of Major W. C. Green, on the North-West Frontier, stationed at a barracks town called Nowshera (now Pakistan), just outside Peshawar. The heat during the months of May, June and July was terribly oppressive, being continually 120 degrees Fahrenheit. We were mainly occupied by a number of small skirmishes and with members of the various mountain tribes intent on stealing our possessions. During guard duties we chained our rifles to our bodies, using six-metre lengths of chain and placed the key to the lock in the guardroom safe, which was buried in the concrete floor. The rifles, less bolts and magazines, were placed in a rifle rack, in the barrack room, the rack being bolted to a twelve inch concrete slab and a gun-metal bar then run through the trigger guards. Even so, items, mostly personal, vanished and could sometimes be located and purchased, fairly cheaply at the town bazaar. During this period, it was hard to believe that we were at war. There were three, or maybe four, brigades in the Peshawar area, ourselves and mainly Indian and Gurkha battalions.

When at the end of July 1940, the British Expeditionary Force was evacuated from Dunkirk, all India based UK troops were ordered to proceed to Bombay. Because we were some 2,000 miles away, this entailed almost a six day journey. Altogether there amassed in Bombay, over 50,000 British troops, gathered from all parts of India. We set sail for the Suez Canal in an old tramp steamer, but half-way across the Arabian Sea, Italy entered the war forcing us to turn south and head for Durban in South Africa. We were escorted by three ships of the Australian Navy, a cruiser HMAS Australia and two destroyers. A week later, when we arrived at Durban we found two ships, Monarch of Bermuda and the P.O. liner Orion waiting for us. We spent a very memorable four days in Durban, being feted by the mainly British contingent. As we steamed out of Durban en route for the UK, the crews of the three Australian warships manned the decks and saluted us with three rousing cheers to wish us a safe journey. I felt really proud to be a member of the Commonwealth of Nations.

A few miles out from Durban we were joined by the cruiser HMS Neptune and other UK ships carrying troops from Australia and New Zealand. Because of the threat to hand over the French fleet, at Dakar, to the Germans, we pulled in at Freetown, Sierra Leone whilst our naval escort left us in order to help dissuade the Vichy Government from surrendering the French fleet. The French battleship Richelieu escaped the British net and sailed into Dakar, remaining there immobile for the remainder of the war.

The continuance of our journey, once we got underway was uneventful until we reached the Irish Sea when a German submarine, which was attempting to intercept our convoy, was sunk with depth charges by our escort.

On reaching our destination, Liverpool, a baggage party consisting of myself and several others was detailed to stay behind. That night Liverpool was attacked by German bombers and a large mine was dropped in the River Mersey, near where we were anchored and it was slowly drifting towards us with the tide. The ship urgently cast off and moved further inland. Meanwhile the navy successfully dealt with the threat. This action however took a couple of hours to accomplish and as the mine exploded the Orion almost capsized, such was the wash.

Some weeks later found the battalion quartered in the village of Bethesden, in Kent, where the daytime sky was alive with the sight and sound of the dogfights between the Allied and German fighter planes during the episode now universally referred to as the 'Battle of Britain'. During this phase, the battalion was commended for not only it's part in apprehending a number of German Air Crews shot down during the battle, but for our success in shooting down three German bombers, who were trying to escape by hedge-hopping very low over the Kent countryside.

Across a three-mile corridor, terminating at London, a force consisting of four battalions, ourselves the 2nd South Staffs, the 2nd Royal Ulster Rifles, the 1st Ox and Bucks and the 1st Border Regiment, manning LMGs on tripods, were assigned the task of defending the area from anticipated invasion forces. After a period of around two months we moved to an area around London, and the brigade re-equipped to perform the role of an anti-invasion force, trained specifically to react swiftly to the landing of an enemy airborne armada, perhaps the most important assignment of any of the regular home based army units. This unit was designated the 31st Independent Brigade Group. Each battalion was called upon, in turn, to guard the De Havilland site in Wakefield, whilst the other battalions were moved constantly to guard vital defence facilities in the vulnerable south-eastern counties, moving always after dark.

The spring of 1941 found us integrated, together with a Canadian division, into 12 Corps, trained and fully equipped for an offensive role. Stationed now in South Wales, the Brigade Group underwent intensive training on the mountainous area known as the Brecon Beacons. A reintroduction to the use of pack mules, the battalions' main means of transporting equipment in pre-war Nowshera, together with the essential Sepoy drivers, gave rise to the obvious conclusion that we were destined to support the armed forces of Greece, in the event of a suspected German invasion. However the rapid occupation of Greece and Yugoslavia by Germany forestalled this intention.

Frustrated, the 31st Independent Brigade moved to Berkshire, and those members who survived three test flights, without ill effects, were renamed the 1st Airlanding Brigade and integrated into the 1st Airborne Division.

In 1943, half the forces comprising the 1st Airlanding Brigade were deployed, to form the nucleus of the 6th Airlanding Brigade, part of the newly created 6th Airborne Division. We, the remainder journeyed, by sea to North Africa to join the 1st and 4th Parachute Brigades, for the next phase of the Mediterranean campaign, the assault on Sicily.

Towed by an American tug en route to Sicily, my glider was forced to ditch in the Mediterranean, due to enemy anti-aircraft fire, about two miles from the coastal fishing town of Avola. My No.4, L/Cpl Crossman had been trapped in the glider when we hit the water and his thigh had been split open, a wound of about six inches. I applied a tourniquet and my shell dressing. The salt water helped to congeal the blood flow. Together we managed to reach land, in an exhausted and unarmed condition.

We were both taken prisoner by Italian troops, and both physically assaulted. I received a rifle butt to my head which caused me to fall back into the water. With my head throbbing and bleeding I was unable to help myself and would probably have drowned but for an Italian, who pulled me out. A couple of the Italians then hauled and carried me up the cliff face and then dumped me unceremoniously onto the ground, which was filthy. I tried to get up to help Crossman, earning myself another bashing. An English speaking Italian corporal informed me that my friend was being cared for, so I asked that he get him to a doctor; but shortly after a Italian lieutenant ordered me to help Crossman to his feet and for both of us to start walking, even though they had taken away the boots of us both.

With Crossman, who was delirious, on my shoulders I hobbled along for about three miles, with my feet terribly sore and bleeding. Once I stopped to rest from fatigue, but the Italian lieutenant hit me, poked his pistol in my face and threatened to shoot me, forcing me to continue walking. Crossman still had not received any treatment for his wounds and I was sure that he was going to die on my shoulders. Our destination was a barracks, but still no doctor was available.

On arrival we were stripped of our clothes and personal possessions. Naked I was forced to stand for about two hours whilst being unlawfully interrogated by the Italian Lieutenant. When I repeatedly protested that his questions and my treatment was against the rules of the Geneva Convention, I was hit in the rib cage with a rifle butt, such that finally I was so covered with lumps and bruises that I was unable to stand. Apparently my treatment was reported to a Colonel, his commanding officer, who, on appearance, angrily dismissed the Lieutenant, ordered the guards to help me to an empty room with a bed and blankets and personally gave me a drink of water. He also arranged for Crossman to be given the same facilities.

Despite the attention of a multitude of mosquitoes I was quickly asleep, only to be awakened after a brief interval by with an urgent order to accompany the guards to the Colonel's office. Proceeding to a look-out tower, he pointed out to sea, and in the pre-dawn mist I could make out the shadowy silhouettes of an Allied invasion fleet. He asked me, "What are those ships?". I replied something to the effect that it was not likely to be General Alexander parading the ships for his benefit.

Suddenly, there appeared from one of the ships a flash. Moments later, with a tremendous roar, a huge shell landed about 200 yards from our position. This was followed in rapid succession by a host of further such projectiles. Hastily we retreated downstairs to a seventy foot deep bunker. With each burst the ground heaved, and two soldiers came in carrying a stretcher, on which lay a wounded soldier. It was the young Corporal who had, the night before, given me a drink of water, a cigarette and had shared his lemon squash with Crossman and myself. He was unconscious and dying and all I could do for him was to mop his brow. When he did die I felt very sad, and yet he had been my enemy.

I was summoned again by the Colonel, who was ready to surrender, but two other officers persuaded him to carry on with the fight. The initial attempt to land been repelled because of the forbidding outcrop of rocks on the coast, but a further attempt to the south of these features proved successful. During these events I was left free to roam around their headquarters and so I made my way back to rejoin my friend Crossman, who, although he was seriously hurt was uncomplaining and little trouble.

From a vantage point I watched the 2nd Battalion of the Hampshire Regiment mount a precise battalion attack, which brought them into close proximity of the barracks. The Colonel now requested me to approach the attackers, whilst waving a white flag, and to convey his willingness to surrender. At first I refused this request, but when he pointed his pistol at me, I protested but accepted his proposal. Taking the white piece of rag they handed me, I approached the Hampshire position, crawling the last fifty yards to a low wall, on my belly. As the noise of battle abated I called out as loud as possible that I was British, not daring to project my arm in case they opened fire. An answering voice called out, "Who are you?" I answered, "I am English, taken prisoner by the Italians, who now wish to surrender!" After what seemed like an eternity, a voice demanded that I stand up with my hands on my head. Unable, with my hands in this position, to cover myself with the blanket, I stood there naked. Confronted by a seemingly empty expanse of barbed wire, as I stood there, six or so British soldiers slowly rose up into view. They cut through the barbed wire and identified me by means of my identity discs.

The Italian Colonel and his officers duly surrendered, all except the pig who had tortured me, he was not amongst them. The Colonel ordered all ranks to join him in captivity and as they filed past, I closely inspected them. Suddenly two of the enemy soldiers seized one of their number and brought him to me. It was the bastard who had so viciously interrogated me and denied Crossman medical aid. He was now dressed as a rank and file soldier. The Sergeant Major of the Hampshires had lost two men through the treachery of the Italians in North Africa and when I informed him of the methods used to interrogate me, he said, "Leave him to me!" He had him escorted to the back of the building and I heard a burst of fire from a Sten gun. The Sergeant Major, on returning said, "He tried to escape." He then left to organise transport for Crossman. The last time I saw my friend was as he was being carried by stretcher into an ambulance.

At the battalion HQ, a Lieutenant Colonel equipped me with some oversize, old clothes, a jumper and slippers and some emergency rations, which were gratefully accepted. Taken then to 231 Brigade HQ, after being questioned by the Brigade Major, I was taken in turn to the Commander, Brigadier R. E. Urquhart, who was later to command the 1st Airborne Division at Arnhem.

Suffering from a lack of sleep since the start of this operation, I was tightly secured in a Sherman tank, with a blanket to cover me. Despite the noise and smell of the engine, I slept as the tank moved slowly to its' destination.

When I awoke it was daylight and the tank captain, a member of the 6th Armoured Brigade, explained that my unit was at Syracuse, which was about fifty miles away, and that I should be leaving to rejoin them. Before I left he gave me a letter addressed to any British or American officer, identifying me and explaining my circumstances, which he signed personally.

I set off on foot and had covered about a mile when I came across a Corporal from the Military Police. Our meeting was disrupted by a large group of armed Italians who emerged from the trees nearby. Nervously the Corporal, who fortunately could speak a smattering of Italian, demanded that they surrender, which thankfully they did. The officer in charge delivered up his pistol and ordered his troops to lay down their arms and to accompany us to the Military Police base at Avola, a coastal fishing village. After reporting to the military authorities I was supplied with a meal consisting of fresh fried fish and black bread, and lashings of tea, with sacharines and goats milk.

Interviewed at leisure by the Divisional Intelligence Officer, I told him of my disastrous arrival by glider and of the subsequent events. He already knew of my landing in the sea and informed me that the glider had been subsequently rammed by the navy, as it constituted a hazard to the incoming landing craft.

Some time later, after a welcome rest, I informed my rescuers that I was anxious to rejoin my unit. They said that unfortunately they were unable to provide me with transport to my destination, still some thirty or forty miles away. After I had covered about three miles, with a rag around my head and neck to guard against the oppressive heat of the Sicilian sun, I was suddenly overtaken by an armoured scout car of the 6th Armoured Brigade. The officer in command, a Lieutenant Colonel of the Grenadier Guards, was unimpressed by my apparel and curious as to my status. After reading the letter I was carrying he acknowledged that, coincidentally, he had been made aware of my fate and so welcomed me aboard. He informed me that he would be crossing over our original target the Ponte Grande bridge, en route to Augusta. He informed me of the terrible losses sustained by the Air Landing Brigade and the South Staffs in particular, who lost all but thirty men.

Proceeding on our way we were strafed by a lone Messerschmit 109. Missing us at the first attempt, it circled for a further attack but was beaten off by the small arms fire of nearby British troops. They dropped me off at the bridge which has been renamed Pegasus Bridge, in honour of the three hundred men of the 2nd Battalion, South Staffordshire Regiment who gave their lives to capture it.

As to the battle, the enemy were attacked by the joint forces of the South Staffs and the Border Regiment, an action that proceeded all through the night. Once captured the meagre force of 85 men remaining, under the leadership of the deputy Brigade Commander, Colonel Jones, held on grimly until, about 5 pm, down now to only thirty men, mostly wounded and out of ammunition, and exhausted after a succession of hand-to-hand encounters, were forced to surrender. The relieving force, 5th Corps of the 8th Army, for whom they had been desperately waiting, were hours late, striving to force their way ashore.

The Italians however were unable to destroy the bridge because of the success of our engineers, who had dismantled all the wiring and charges, dropping them into the river.

The Italians hung two Glider Pilots and were preparing to hang a Roman Catholic Chaplain when No 3 Commando, in a determined assault, recaptured the position and killed the would be executioners.

Searching again for my unit, I came across an Airborne Soldier who guided me to their position and I was instantly surrounded by my surviving comrades; we were all so pleased to greet each other. After a welcome meal and the opportunity to wash, shave and change my clothes, I went to pay my respects to my dead comrades in a building set aside for their bodies. There were about 200 bodies, but none of my anti-tank comrades, and I unashamedly shed tears at the sight of all these dead comrades.

Next morning we were formed up in the presence of General Bernard Montgomery, who personally thanked us for our contribution, true to the tradition of the 'Red Devils'

We, the survivors of the 1st Airlanding Brigade, on board two Tank Landing Craft, departed the coast of Sicily the next day, returning to Sousse, our original point of departure in North Africa. En route we came across a large mine floating in our path, which despite the sailors from both craft firing 20mm shells, resisted all efforts to destroy it.

Once back at Sousse, the battalion was brought back up to strength with the addition of reinforcements and engaged in strenuous exercises designed both to bring the new men up to the standard required in their new role and to renew the commitment of the battle hardened originals. All this in preparation for the coming invasion of Italy.

Once aboard a British cruiser at the Naval Base of Bizerta, our destination, as part of the allied invasion, was revealed as the Italian port of Taranto. En route, a few miles to starboard, we witnessed the magnificent spectacle of the might of the Italian Navy sailing to North African ports, having surrendered to the Allies when the Italian government negotiated a cessation of hostilities. As we prepared to enter the port we heard a tremendous explosion; the minelaying cruiser, HMS Abdiel, carrying the 6th Parachute Battalion, had struck two large mines. It sank within three minutes, taking with it the bodies of 63 Airborne soldiers and a large number of crew members. The entrance was blocked and it took the Italian lighters, which were rushed to the scene, several hours to free a passage for our own ship.

Our landing was unopposed, despite the presence of three battalions of German parachute troops, who withdrew rapidly from the area, and unfortunately only their commanding officer and approximately a hundred bewildered members who had lost contact with their units, were located and persuaded to surrender.

Leaving Taranto, we marched for a total of thirty miles in ten days, an ordeal which I found taxed my physical powers to the limit, having to carry the 3" mortar plate on my back the whole way. We captured the towns of Brindisi, Bari, Foggia and San Severo, before reaching the town of Lucera. After three weeks on the move we were relieved by a unit of the 4th Indian Division and the Jewish Brigade from Palestine.

The 1st Airborne Division's contribution to the Italian campaign was now at an end, being required back home ready for the forthcoming fight to liberate the occupied territories of Europe from their oppressor.

Moving first to Brindisi, then to Phillipville in Algeria, the battalion was assigned the task of policing the docks. This task was fortuitous because we were granted the power of arrest and, lo and behold, we located a number of Italian sailors who were known to us as having stolen the cigarettes and chocolate from our rations whilst we were in the front line in Italy. We duly arrested them and they were sentenced to periods ranging from five to twenty-five years without parole, by a civil magistrate. Our Italian campaign at an end, we journeyed home on the Stirling Castle in order to prepare for our next assignment.

END.

By the time of Operation Market Garden in September 1944, Bill Halliwell had been promoted to Sergeant. He did not participate in the fighting at Arnhem, but instead accompanied the Seaborne Echelon who carried the 1st Airborne Division's stores and heavy equipment, and followed in the wake of the 2nd British Army. In May 1945, he accompanied the 2nd South Staffordshires to Norway to oversee the surrender of the German forces there, before being demobbed in June 1946. Bill Halliwell died on the 2nd June 2006, aged 85.

2nd South Staffordshires

Back to Biographies Menu