CHAPTER 6 - TOBRUK
by Roger Hutt
“And the blast of the desert cried aloud.”
My father never talked about Tobruk so what follows is my reconstruction from accounts by people who were there. It is little wonder that he did not wish to talk about his experiences because they must have been truly horrendous. My father recalls events in the area of Eritrea and Sudan and the records confirm this as the area the “Worcesters” where in at that time. Quite a number of skirmishes are recorded about this time during 1941. At Christmas that year the Regiment found itself near Cairo and by all reports they were able to relax and enjoy themselves a little. On the February 2nd 1942 they were ordered to pack their “traps.” |
Pte. Joseph Hutt |
Their lot for the next few months was patrols, skirmishes, being dive bombed regularly and digging in. The Worcesters made a defensive box at Bir-El-Cubi and here the serious stuff began. There were heavy clashes with the enemy and although they had to retreat into the box on several occasions they managed to inflict heavy losses on what was numerically a superior force. Next they were on the move again to El Adem and then to Acroma. Several men and trucks were lost along the Axis Road.
Acroma was part of what came to be known the Knightsbridge box. By now the Germans had grown tired of being pasted by what they considered a lesser force and had appointed a new general to oversee the area. His name was Rommel. Acknowledged by both sides as a brilliant general “The Desert Fox” brought about a dramatic change. He saw off several high-ranking British generals, including Autinchleck and Wavell, before the arrival of Montgomery and his stunning victory at El Alamein turned the tide of the war. On June the 14th 1942 however that day was a long way off.
One record states that the attack on Knightsbridge was not quite as bad as Dunkirk but bad enough. As the troops started to dig in the blitz started. Attack followed attack but incredibly the Germans were forced back. There was little food or water and ammunition was in very short supply. Many prayers were said that day.
The way out offered little hope. There was an incline of some 150 yards, wide open that had to be crossed under fire from the 21st Panzers and the 8th Machine Gun Battery. Men were literally blown to pieces on that stretch but incredibly most managed to make it. The battalion eventually regrouped and set off for Tobruk, which was a long march but by the early hours of the morning they had made it.
The big dig in started amid constant dive bombings. One account described the planes as being so low you could almost touch them. On Saturday the June 20th the enemy broke through. Heavy bombing continued with the use of one-ton bombs. There were reports of heavy tank losses by the Allies. The Coldstreams and the Sherwoods set out a new line accompanied by the 5th South African Brigade. All the time there was talk of enemy tanks thundering up the main road to Tobruk. Large fires and explosions were seen all around. Regiments became fragmented at this stage. It was reported that over 350 tanks had been lost.
On Sunday June 21st orders were received to cease fire, blow up all guns and vehicles. Enemy tanks could be seen approaching in the distance.
So, Tobruk fell and the major part of the Regiment was captured. At least the searing hell was over. The fall of Tobruk was devastating news for Winston Churchill who received the news whilst visiting Roosevelt. His recorded comment was “Defeat is one thing, disgrace quite another”. My father, like most people, always respected Churchill as a war leader but I believe the great man’s comment that day to be ungracious in the extreme. I know Churchill is recorded as saying that we outnumbered the Germans in the desert but numerical superiority counts for little when you are being constantly bombarded from the air and find yourselves virtually out of ammunition in any event. It should also be remembered that the men were ordered to lay down their arms, to destroy them and any other equipment they could manage.
Rommel’s own account of his entry into Tobruk following its fall was that it was virtually flattened. Reports state that Rommel, for all his expertise, was extremely lucky at Tobruk. On several occasions he very vulnerable but poor leadership let him off the hook on each occasion. Apparently there was little coordination on the British side and astonishingly no one seemed to be in overall command. Photographs of Tobruk afterwards show it to resemble a bomb site, showing the devastating effects of the Luftwaffe. Rommel also stated that the British troops were lions led by sheep.
In the event my father and thousands of others found themselves prisoners of the Italians, which was an irony since they had almost always come out top against them in previous battles. After a few days at Tobruk most POWs were shipped up to Timini where they were given salt water to drink before the journey to Benghazi. The biggest danger here apparently was shrapnel from “friendly” bombs as the RAF hit back. Soon they found themselves near Tripoli. The camp was lousy with lice and fleas and no one was exempt. The lice were a real problem because they never leave you alone. There was no Red Cross, very little food, no blankets and no extra clothing to protect them from the cold nights. At this point many died from malnutrition.
Then it was on to Tripoli in cattle wagons, knee deep in animal excrement according to reports I read. The POWs were shoe horned onto tramp steamers, as many as 180 crammed into a stinking hold where they had to try and sleep standing up. My father’s ship was lucky compared to SS Scillin, which was unfortunately attacked and sank by a British submarine. Apparently, the commander thought the ship was carrying only Italian soldiers. He was exonerated and the whole incident hushed up for over fifty years before persistent relatives dragged the truth out of the MOD. They had been persistently lied to for all that time. If this sounds incredible, confirmation can be found on the Worcesters own web site. During that sea journey most contracted severe uncontrollable dysentery. Imagine that in an overcrowded hold with no facilities and no change of clothing.
Then it was across the straits of Medina to Italy. After being frogmarched through freezing snow my father eventually ended up in Campo 53 Settori. I believe it was during this stage that he developed frostbite, which resulted in a crude operation by a French doctor without anaesthetic. It was to affect his walking for the rest of his life.
From research I have done I am convinced that the above is a pretty accurate representation of what happened except that I am sure it was ten times worse than I can ever describe.
The only time my father mentioned Tobruk was when I pressed him as to why it fell he shrugged his shoulders and said, “We just ran out of ammo.” A friend of my fathers once told me a story about him. Just after the war he was in a local pub with this friend when a sort of “spiv” walked in. In a loud voice he began flogging hand made cigarette lighters. He was loudly boasting that he had established a nice little sideline while working in a munitions factory while the other “mugs” were making ammunition. My father suddenly flew at the man and it took several men to pull him off. His friend reckoned he would have killed him if they had not intervened. This incident was totally out of character for my father because he was in no way a violent man but it is easy to understand his actions.
His own post Tobruk reminiscences start in that Italian prisoner of war camp.