Showing posts with label Royal Engineers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Royal Engineers. Show all posts

Friday, 12 January 2018

Robert Fergus (Fergie) Smith

The first article and pictures appeared in the 20th November 2002 edition of the East Kilbride News on pages 14 and 15.  I received kind permission to reproduce the article and images from the Editor, Gordon Bury.
A further article was written by Lynda Nicol and published in the East Kilbride News on 24th March 2004. I received kind permission from Lynda to reproduce her article and you will find it at the bottom of this page.

Article written by Bill Niven as part of the Local History Corner


Robert Fergus Smith was born on January 15, 1918.

Fergie, as he was always known, came with his parents and elder brother Graham to what was then Maxwellton Road, East Kilbride, in 1919.

In November of each year, we celebrate and honour the fallen of both World Wars and I have published articles in the East Kilbride News on the East Kilbride War Memorial in Graham Avenue where the sacrifice of the 105 men and women, who gave their lives in the pursuit of freedom, are commemorated.
On this occasion I feel it would be appropriate to record the war experiences between 1939 and 1945 of Fergie Smith as representing all those whose courage and valour through torment and hardship overcame the threat of Nazi aggression.

The Outbreak of War - 1939
Fergie Smith was 21 years old when World War II broke out on September 3, 1939.  After the invasion of Poland by Germany on September 1, war was declared by Britain and France two days later. 

Football and golf were Fergie's two main sporting interests.  I have in front of me his 1939-40 membership card of East Kilbride YMCA Football and Athletic Club.   There are some well-kent names among the office bearers - Chris Thomson, John Cadzow, Bill Ainslie, Douglas Smith and Quintin Watt.   Fergie had joined East Kilbride Golf Club as a boy of eight and over his life was to retain membership for more than three-quarters of a century.  In both games he excelled, playing as a half back with the YM football team and a long standing team player with the golf club.

On December 15, 1939, Fergie enlisted in the Royal Engineers as a motor driver.   His soldier's service book gives his weight as 11 stones.  By the end of the war, however, his weight had plummeted to six stones.  His daily rate of pay was two shillings (10p).  He was 5 feet 7 1/2 inches tall and his general physical and mental health was recorded as A1.  He was to need all his strength and determination to survive the six years ahead of him.

Capture at Boulogne - May 21, 1940
Fergie was posted to Anglesey in Wales to start a comprehensive training course which lasted for 90 days.
His training involved gunnery, use of mines and driving techniques.  He was part of the Second Militia, Royal Engineers and his squad of sixty were shipped to France on April 28, 1940.  The ship arrived at Le Havre and hundreds of troops were waiting to return to the UK.  Fergie could not understand why they were off-loaded and sent to the frontline to hold up the rapid advance of the German army.  Thousands were killed or wounded in the retreat and Fergie's unit arrived in Boulogne on May 20.  Fergie and his comrades took shelter in coal cellars under the houses.  A French spy gave their position away, the doors were opened and an armed German officer forced the British soldiers to line up against the wall.  Two German machine gunners lay on the road waiting for the command to shoot.  The German captain told them they would be transported to Germany.    They began a long trek of 300 miles to Luxembourg where they boarded a cattle truck for three days before arriving at Stalag XXA near Torun in Poland.  This was the beginning of five years in captivity after but 22 days in France. 

It is sobering to think that these same cattle trucks were used from 1942 to transport Jews and other minorities to the gas chambers.

Stalag XXA - 1940-1941
On arrival at Stalag XXA, photographs were taken and metal discs given to each of the prisoners to wear around their necks at all times.  Fergie's was number 6383.  Roll call was taken every morning at 6 am, taking up to three hours to count the 10,000 men.  Breakfast was a bowl of watery cabbage soup.  In due course, working parties were transported to various towns and villages.   Fergie's squad spent the winter levelling the ground for houses to be built for the German families who were to occupy Poland.  One hundred men slept in a wooden hut 18 feet by 15 feet.  There were four rooms , each with a stove in the middle.  The prisoners found these conditions much improved from the main camp.   The POWs left at 6 am each morning, marched for two hours, worked until 5 pm and then arrived back at the barracks at 6 pm for a bowl of soup and two slices of bread.   This diet undermined their strength and a number of POWs were lost through dysentery and diptheria.  The winter of 1940 was bitter and the soldiers slept fully clothed, including balaclavas.  Some Red Cross parcels were now arriving at Stalag XXA.  A parcel for Fergie contained, among other things, two shirts, one pair of gloves, one foot bruch, razor blades and soap, two pullovers, 12 cakes of chocolate and two pencils.

Stalag XXB - 1941-1945
In March 1941, Fergie Smith was transferred to a new camp Stalag XXB at Marienburg on the Baltic Coast.  His squad worked at a sawmill at Elbing near Danzig (now Gdansk).  The barracks had improved and conditions were better, with a British Medical Orderly and medicines available.  However, in June 1941, Germany invaded Russia and the prisoners could observe the troop trains moving to the frontline for months on end.  Towards the end of 1941, life improved further with regular deliveries of Red Cross food and clothing parcels.  The POWs were now allowed to send one postcard with six lines ( passed by censor).   There was also a well-organised round of sporting activities in the area.  The prisoners' newspaper The Camp carried a report of the Elbing District Sports in its issue of July 18, 1943.   The final of the District League was fought between the Whites and the Yellows.   Fergie Smith was captain of the Yellows and was reported as "having played a great game".  Fergie also distinguished himself in the Inter District Sports as a member of the winning 800 metres relay team.  In early 1945, when Russians made their major push towards Germany through Poland, the German High Command ordered all 10 camps in the area to be brought back to safety into Germany.  The 1000 prisoners awaited transport, but none was available due to the Russian advance.  As Fergie wrote: "Thus we were put on a death march, which lasted nine weeks and covered 1000 miles before being liberated near Hamburg."


"My story of the march, day by day, can be read in my diary."  (The picture to the left is of Fergie at the end of the war in 1945).

The winter conditions made survival at night a major problem.  A significant number of prisoners died of exposure and Fergie's answer to the dangers of sleeping on the ground, was a piece of rope with which he attached himself to a tree in order to prop himself up while sleeping.  The columns were stationed at Hitzacher for almost two weeks and during the day were transported to neighbouring villages on work parties.  On April 14, he noted the death of President Roosevelt and on the 18th the meal was peas, margarine and bread.

On Tuesday, April 24, tragedy struck - the column was travelling through Putlitz when a German vehicle came thundering up from behind.  As it passed, Fergie realised that a Nazi officer was preparing to shoot and in the next 60 seconds three soldiers were dead and another fatally wounded. 

The four men were:
Jim Clarkin, Black Watch of East Kilbride
Ronald Jackson, Green Howards
Gordon Pollitt, Kings Regiment
Albert True, Queen's Own, West Kent


Fergie described this day as Black Tuesday in his diary.  The four men were buried two days later.  With heavy hearts, the survivors reached Luneburg on May 2 and witnessed an historic moment in history.  

General Bernard Montgomery came across to speak to them:

"You will be happy to know boys that I am about to sign the peace pact."

The Diary of the Death March
Fergie's diary comprises a slim 80 page notebook measuring four inches by 2 1/2 inches.   The brown cardboard covers are now faded but the Teutonic scrolling and geometic designson the front cover are clearly visible.  The quality of the lined paper is good and the diary was probably bought in Stalag XXB in 1942.

The account of the Death March comprises 10 pages in the centre of the volume.   After Fergie's personal details at the beginning, there are the names and addresses of some two dozen of his comrades during his internment.
At the rear of the diary is a list of letters sent and received during 1942 and 1943.   There was correspondence with his mother and father, brother Graham, Aunt Maggie and Uncle John.  Outside the family circle were the Rev. Walter Millar, Mary Kirkwood, neighbours the McCormicks and the McNicols, John Templeton and his golfing buddy Bobby Graham.

The diary of the journey is headed The Great March back from Dirschau, West Prussia, which began on February 20, 1945, and ended at 10.45 am on Wednesday, May 2, 1945, when the marchers were liberated by the American troops.

The narrative is written in pencil and gives a faithful account of the daily journey in kilometres and the itinerary followed.

There are cryptic notes:-
February 25: Red X parcel (12 men)
March 6: Here we lost the column for 2 days
March 12: Rest day at Neuenkirchen
March 26: Brilliant day by RAF!
April 1: Sunday holiday - Easter Sunday


Postscript
Fergie Smith was repatriated to a hospital in Surrey where he recovered from a debilitating illness and from there transferred to Hairmyres Hospital.  Sadly, Fergie's father Sam died on the very day of his son's liberation. 


Now it was back to life as a civilian working for Philips of Hamilton.  Marriage to Norma (left with Fergie) followed in 1949 and daughters Pamela and Linda arrived in due course.

Fergie Smith resumed his place in the YM football team and became club champion at East Kilbride Golf Club in 1953.  With Norma, he won the family foursomes for a record three times.
His later years were hampered by indifferent health and the death of his wife Norma in 1999 was a major blow to him.

I am much indebted to his daughter Pamela for the memorabilia from which the narrative is drawn.  As I studied the mass of documents, letters, photographs and newspaper cuttings, I became acutely aware of the horrors of war and its aftermath of personal tragedy.  I knew and respected Fergie Smith for more than half a century and will longer remember his charm and bonhomie.   His passing on May 17, 2002, leaves all who knew him with a deep sense of personal loss. 

Fergie's wartime experiences and his valour and grit were shared by many others during hostilities.  His story, however, is his alone and is without dout that of a very brave man indeed.

Editor's note
The sheer scale of war can often mask the horror of it all.  Read that so many hundreds perished here or so many thousands died there and the senses are almost switched off, numbed by the terrible truth behind the cold weight of facts and figures.  Yet when we read about one man's struggle to survive against all odds, the hellish reality bites home with a vengeance, leaving the reader deeply moved.  Leafing through Fergie's diary, it becomes apparent that there is not one hint of self-pity in the face of adversity or self-praise following the daily act of heroism that was simply staying alive on the Death March.  His story reminds us once again that many from the wartime generations had - or maybe they developed - special qualities that we who live in different times may never possess.  It further reminds us that we are indebted to those who put their lives on the line so that we can live today as free men and women.  

Gordon Bury
All information on this page is © of the East Kilbride News and should not be reproduced in any way without the express permission of the Editor.


War prisoner's tale is still a top read by Lynda Nicol

An article about a local man who spent five years as a prisoner of war in the infamous Stalag camps is still being widely read by people all over ther world 16 months after it was first published in the East Kilbride News.
For the article about the late Fergie Smith by local historian Bill Niven has been printed in full on a website which specialises in World War II memories with the permission of the News and its author.

The article has aroused considerable interest and inquiries from the families of men whose circumstances were similar to those of Fergie.

Bill told the News that the website will also be of interest to many readers.

Fergie Smith, whose family moved to East Kilbride in 1919 when he was just a baby, enlisted in the Royal Engineers on December 15, 1939 shortly after the outbreak of the war.
After training his squad was shipped to France on April 28, 1940.
Fergie and his comrades were captured by the Germans in Boulogne on May 20.
In his diary, Fergie told of the long 300 mile trek to Luxembourg to board a cattle truck to take them to Stalag XXA near Torun in Poland.
This was the beginning of five years in captivity after just 22 days in France.

Roll call was taken every morning at 6am and breakfast was a bowl of watery cabbage soup.
In due course, working parties were transported to various towns and villages. Dinner was also a bowl of soup and two slices of bread.

This diet undermined their strength and a number of POWs were lost through dysentry and diptheria.
In March 1941, Fergie was transferred to a new camp Stalag XXB at Marienburg on the Baltic Coast where his squad worked at a sawmill at Elbing near Danzig (now Gdansk).
But in 1945, when the Russians made their major push towards Germany through Poland, the German High Command ordered the prisoners brought back to Germany.
There was no transport and, as Fergie wrote: "Thus we were put on a death march, which lasted nine weeks and covered 1000 miles before being liberated near Hamburg."

SURVIVAL
The winter conditions made survival at night a major problem. A significant number of prisoners died of exposure before the marchers were liberated by American troops on May 2, 1945.

Fergie Smith was repatriated to a hospital in Surrey and later transferred to Hairmyres Hospital.

Fergie Smith resumed his place in the EKYM football team and became club champion at East Kilbride Golf Club in 1953. With Norma, he won the family foursomes for a record three times.

His later years were hampered by indifferent healt and the death of his wife Norma in 1999 was a major blow to him. Fergie died in May 2002.

To read his fascinating story in full, as it appeared in the News in 2002, go to WWII Memories.

August 2017: Keir contacted me to say "My name is Keir Tetley and I am the Great-Grandson of Gordon Pollitt (King's Regiment), who is noted in the story of Robert Fergus Smith as having being gunned down by a German officer in a vehicle on the 24th of April 1945.

My family are currently in posession of Gordon's army journal/book that details his journey to Stalag XXB, but nothing past the point he arrived in the PoW camp. If any more information is available to the nature of his death from Robert Smith's or anyone else's account I would be very grateful to have it shared with me.

Two or Three years ago we visited Gordon's grave in Putlitz. He is still there along with the graves of Ali Gasam, James Clarkin, Ronald Jackson, Sugk Kisan and Albert True. I believe Ali was also killed at the same time as the four mentioned in the account of Robert Smith. We surprised the groundskeeper who was very emotional at the fact a family had arrived to see the graves of the Commonwealth soldier he tended to."

George (Bob) Jacobs

I heard from John Jacobs in January 2005 as he had opened a copy of the Daily Express newspaper and been astounded to see a photographs of the Death March at the end of WWII with his father staring out at him from the page. You can read the article on Danny Dorlin's page here.


George on the day he left home for training, April 1940 aged 20yrs

John provided me with the following information on his father, George Jacobs (aka Bob) as follows:
" As I have read from a lot of families listed on different sites, my father did not talk about his experiences during his time as a prisoner. He did on certain occasions say things about the march and how cold it was, and how he 'bonded' with certain people and did not get on with others. All very vague and not much to go on!!!!"

George was at Dunkirk in 1940 and was captured 3 days later after being 'grassed' by a frenchman who had put him up in his barn and promised he would look after him.

"During the 'march' he had a handful of potato peelings that he had somehow boiled ready to eat. As he was about to eat them he saw, through a fence, a young woman with a small child looking at him. He was cold and hungry but he gave his peelings to the woman. How could he do that???? I guess they were made of different stuff than us."

George was in Stalag XXB for 5 years. He was friends with Rex Pearson and Jim Gates.


The ‘Rascals’, Stalag XXB 1943. George is on drums.

"Sadly, he died last January aged 83, but I got a shock in todays' Daily Express, on page 40-41 there is a story regarding the 'death march' and looking out from the page is my father - he is third from left wearing a white shirt."
This is the story that John provided to me - in his own words...

1939 – 1946 Stalag XXB Poland and the Death March
My father, George William Frederick Jacobs was 19 years old in 1939 when he was ‘called up’ for action. He was the eldest of five children, living at home in Yiewsley Middlesex and he worked for the local grocer delivering goods on a tradesmen’s bicycle.

He was not well travelled and in some circumstances quite naïve, for instance, the local wood yard had a ‘hooter/siren’ that was sounded every day at 12.00 to signify to the workers that it was lunchtime, the local people took advantage of this by setting their clocks to the sounds of the 12.00 hooter.

The first time my father left home was in 1939, on his first day’s army training he realised that the time was 12.15, looking amazed he said to everyone in his billet “did anyone hear the 12.00 hooter?” he really thought that everyone in the country had a 12.00 hooter!!!!

He was part of the landing party at Dunkirk and apparently was landed on the wrong beach where he, and a dozen other troops, ran for cover in a sparsely wooded area, as they were separated from their commanding officer and had little or no ammunition they decided to stay where they were for the night or until they could return to their battalion.

George ‘Bob’ Jacobs is front row extreme left
They were woken suddenly on the second day, a dive-bomber was screaming out of the sky down towards their position; my father and his mates ran in all directions, my father decided to run towards the woods but was grabbed from behind by a man named Jim Gates, he said “no, not that way, lets go over there”. They ran and hid behind a tree, when the attack had finished they made their way back to the others.

They were amazed to find an 18-foot wide river between them and where they left the others, Jim said “how the bloody hell did we cross that”!!! They checked their clothes and found them to be totally dry. They could not understand how they got across the river but they assumed they must have jumped across.

So they tried to jump back; taking a long run up Jim Gates made it only half way across, Dad fared no better. When they dragged themselves out, now soaking wet, they found the other men, all killed by the dive-bomber, somehow Jim knew which way to run and Dad was pleased to have met him.

From that day, Jim and my father became inseparable.

Jim and my father had now become separated from the rest of their unit; they made their way inland and were taken in by a kindly French couple that fed them and offered them shelter in the outside barn, they stayed there for three days.

On the third day they were roughly woken by German soldiers where my father received a blow to the side of his neck by a rifle butt, this blow snapped a tendon in his neck, which affected him, for the rest of his life.

George aged 20yrs, 2nd from right on the day of his capture, June 1940 France, also Tom McGrath but not sure which one?
They were arrested and became PoWs the Frenchman had betrayed them.

I don’t know what happened next but my father ended up in Stalag XXB in Poland.

He only ever spoke of two other inmates, Jim Gates and Rex Pearson who, so he said, “played football together in the camp” apparently one day they played against a German team, he used to tell his grandchildren that he “Once played for England”!!!

Whilst interred in the camp he said that conditions were not so bad, he had food/water and a place to sleep. Red cross parcels arrived regularly but his letters home never reached there. The only letter to get ‘home’ was from the war office telling his parents that he had been killed in action.

He told me about life in the camp, when the Red Cross parcels arrived, how the prisoners would ‘swap’ items, he said that cigarettes were the best currency you could have, although Dad didn’t smoke he always kept a good supply of cigarettes, he would charge one cigarette for a packet of sweets/chocolate, two would get him a tin of corned beef etc.

George and his mate Jim Gates, Stalag XXB 1943
He spoke about the forced march; he called it the “2000 mile march”. He used to tell me about having to sleep in the snow; they would all lie down in long rows, if someone wanted to ‘roll over’ the shout went out, “all turn now” and in unison they all turned over together. The lucky ones were those in the middle where it was quite a bit warmer, so they would all take turns at being on the outside.

At some point as a prisoner, my father had managed to collect and save some potato peelings that he found lying on the ground, during one of their rest breaks he went off and hid behind a broken wooden fence, he lit a small fire and started to boil the peelings in an old tin to make, what he referred to as ‘soup’, this was going to be quite a feast!

He was about to taste his concoction when he noticed a young girl, possibly in her teens, cradling a small child in her arms, looking at him from the other side of the fence. She was dirty and bedraggled and was looking hungrily at his ‘soup’.

Ignoring his own hunger he handed his tin to her, she hesitated for a moment then grabbed the tin, my father did not look back as he rejoined his group.

On his return home he often told me that as he walked through the door, his father, who by the way lost his leg in the First World War, was sitting on the kitchen table with his head bowed. For nearly 6 yrs he thought my father had been killed in action, it was a lot for him to take when he walked in.

Shortly after his return home, my father started work in the local wood yard, his first job was ‘pushing a broom’, and he told me once how that felt, after being away and kept prisoner for nearly 6 yrs, and now all was doing was sweeping up sawdust, he became very depressed at that time.

My father married Annie Woolley in 1947 and had two children, my brother ‘Brian’ was born in 1948 and I was born in 1951 and we lived in West Drayton, Middlesex.

Jim Gates and my father lost touch with each other, although he knew that Jim had returned to the Channel Isle of Jersey. In 1966 we had a family holiday in Jersey, the main aim was to try to contact Jim again. As we boarded the taxi to our hotel my father begun talking to the driver, he said that was trying to find his old mate, the taxi driver asked what his name was, my father laughed and said “oh you won’t know him, his name is Jim”, the taxi driver said “do you mean Jim Gates”?


My father could not believe his luck, what seemed like and impossible task, to track down someone he had not seen or heard from for over 20yrs and the first person on Jersey he spoke to actually knew him.

Within 20 minutes we pulled up on Jim’s driveway, my father was convinced that the taxi driver had got the wrong Jim Gates until Jim opened his door to see who was sitting on his driveway. “Bloody hell, it is him” my father said and he jumped out of the taxi, they did not say a word, they just stood there looking at each other, then ran towards each other and hugged. I was around 14yrs old and did not appreciate the moment.

My father and Jim spent the best part 14 days together reminiscing about their ordeal and catching up on their lives, and never lost touch again.

My father became a carpenter; although he was a cabinet maker his passion was making moulds for reinforced concrete, which he did for many years, later in life he made the sets for television shows such as ‘The Good Life’, he actually made the black range (stove) in Tom’s kitchen!!

After he retired he made Georgian dolls houses to order and he gave a lot of his time working for the local shopkeepers, repairing windows, fixing doors, making counters, etc.

When he was 80yrs old he complained that his legs hurt, I asked him why and he said that he had been playing in goal with the local kids over the park!!!

At 82 yrs he was still doing a paper round!!!

My father died in January 2004 aged 84yrs.


20th August 2009
I received an email from Julie as follows:
"Hi, my name is Julie Crotty and I was trying to find out details of my Dad's movements, capture and incarceration during WWII, when I happened upon your website.

My Dad didn't talk much about his experiences and he died, sadly in 1981. His name is Norman Kay, he was the youngest of seven from Blackburn in Lancashire and he was in the Royal Engineers from 15.10.39 to 24.6.46. I believe he was captured at Dunkirk and that he was on the 'Death March'. His prisoner number was 15251 and I know he was in Stalag XXa(35) as this is recorded on the back of a photo from there.


I have a couple more photos with my Dad on them, one of which has puzzled me because it has the address of a R.G. Jacobs, Yiewsley in Middlesex. Imagine my shock when browsing your website that I came accross an account from John Jacobs about his Dad - George Jacobs (aka Bob) from Yiewsley in Middlesex! It sounds as though he was captured in similar circumstances to my Dad, although I have only a sketchy idea of this from my Mum, and that he became a carpenter like my Dad.


I am really excited to find out whether the R.G. Jacobs of my photo is John's Dad or maybe a relative.


Another photo is of Arthur Reginald (Reg) Howard from the Bury/Bolton area of Lancashire competing in a boxing match. He was captured with my Dad and they remained very good friends. My 'Uncle' Reg was Best Man at his wedding and I was a bridesmaid at his son John's wedding. Sadly we lost touch after Reg's wife, Agnes, died.
I would be immensely grateful if you could find any information about my Dad and if you could enlighten me any more about George Jacobs.


I eagerly await your reply".

I have contacted John Jacobs to see if this is indeed George!

21st August 2009
Heard from Julie that John had been in touch and it was indeed his father's address. Julie will be sending the photo shortly.