With thanks to Henry for his wonderful descriptions,
Lawrence for asking me to write this and
Catherine Jones for proof reading.
First Published in Great Britain in 2013 by
PEN & SWORD MILITARY
an imprint of
Pen & Sword Books Ltd
47 Church Street, Barnsley, South Yorkshire S70 2AS
Copyright Carole McEntee-Taylor and Henry Taylor, 2013
ISBN 978-1-78337-603-2
eISBN 9781473831490
The right of Carole McEntee-Taylor and Henry Taylor to be identified as authors of this work has been asserted by them in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
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Contents
I Was Determined Not to Lose this Carrier: I Had Only Had it Two Weeks |
As Henry wrote so much himself I have tried to allow him to tell the story without me drowning him out with too much background information. However, a certain amount is necessary to put it in context. I have tried to make the two voices blend.
Carole McEntee-Taylor
Foreword
Six battalions of The Rifle Brigade served overseas during the Second World War the 1st, 2nd, 7th, 8th, 9th and 10th; the 7th and 8th originating from Territorial Army (TA) battalions of The London Rifle Brigade and the 9th and 10th from TA battalions of Tower Hamlets Rifles. Each has a proud war record and each has its own story to tell.
As Chairman of The Royal Green Jackets (Rifles) Museum in Winchester and custodian of the history and heritage of The Rifle Brigade, I always welcome new material entering the public domain which gives an account of the personal experiences of those who served in the Regiments battalions. Invariably these accounts add something new and on occasions challenge directly the official record of events. They also add colour to otherwise dry Regimental and battalion histories. They tell us from the perspective of the individual about the trials and tribulations of service on the frontline, about the horrors of war, and often the lasting impact of the loss of close friends; about the humour sometimes black humour that prevailed as Riflemen sought relief from the sights, sounds and smell of battle and the fear that might otherwise have overcome them.
A Battle Too Far fits the bill admirably and is an invaluable addition to the Regimental archive. I anticipate its pages will be mined by military historians and researchers for years to come as they seek to bring to light snippets, indeed nuggets, of information which might otherwise remain unknown or forgotten. Above all, however, A Battle Too Far is more than the story of one man, Rifleman Henry Taylor. It is also testament to the actions, courage, commitment and sacrifice of all those who served in the 7th Battalion, The Rifle Brigade, during the Second World War.
Lt-Gen Sir Christopher Wallace
Winchester
Prologue
Port Said:
1 September 1945
As the ship pulled into Alex the dockside was a hive of activity. The captain had radioed ahead and so there was a battalion of the Kings African Rifles (KAR) waiting to disarm us as we disembarked. All these KARs were standing at the order as a staff officer informed us that we were to be placed under arrest and escorted to Khartoum. Here we would contemplate our mutiny for two years. Our battalion was still under arms; the sound of the cocking of weapons greeted the officers threat and a lone voice asked, And whos going to escort the darkies? All our officers were powerless; we had the drop on the KARs, all that was needed was for someone to pull the trigger.
In the long, tense silence that followed Henry Taylor 6923581, late 7th Battalion, The Rifle Brigade (1st Battalion London Rifle Brigade) wondered how things could possibly have got this bad. Considering how fed up they were to be heading back to Egypt instead of going home to England, the evening had actually started quite well. There had certainly been no inkling of the trouble that was to come. Although his attention was focused totally on the situation now confronting him, Henry couldnt help casting his mind back over the momentous events of that evening: momentous events that could completely change his future, and not for the better.
It had all started on the lower deck of HMS Strathmore where they had been billeted with a ship full of New Zealanders on their way home after their three years overseas service.
Yep, not long now and well soon be home, back to our wives and sweethearts. The tall, blonde New Zealander thrust his hips backwards and forwards a couple of times suggestively before continuing: Lots of good food, plenty of beer, and freedom from stupid rules and regulations. Cant wait eh? He looked slowly round at his companions, paused for dramatic effect and then, smacking his hand loudly against his forehead, continued: Oh sorry lads I totally forgot, youre not going home are you? His words were followed by lots of raucous laughter from the rest of his unit who were enjoying the opportunity to rub it in.
The men of the 7th Battalion Rifle Brigade had, for the most part, stoically ignored him. Theyd had nothing but constant jibes and teasing from the Kiwis since they had boarded the ship to head back to Egypt.
Henry or Horse as he was known to the rest of his battalion, smiled wryly as he watched the deep blood-red sun sink rapidly into the deep blue of the Mediterranean Sea. The intense colour of the sun reminded him of the night theyd been travelling to the Mareth Line in Tunisia and he shivered suddenly. He hoped it wasnt an omen. Hed been away from home for over three years now, endured some of the heaviest fighting in North Africa, Italy and Austria, and still he wasnt being sent home.
He sighed inwardly; that was the army for you. When hed enlisted the officer had asked him which corps hed wanted to join. As a builder hed asked for the Royal Engineers (RE) but they couldnt even get that right. The officer had misheard, either accidently or deliberately, and hed ended up in the Rifle Brigade (RB) instead! Not that hed have it any other way now although he would have liked to have gone home instead of another overseas posting to yet another potential war zone. The officer giving them their unwelcome orders had called it civil unrest but to him and most of his friends, it was just another reason to stop him getting on with his life: a life that had been halted when hed been conscripted in December 1941.