El Alamein and Torch 1942

	Overview of the Battles.
	This page:experiences in El Alamein.
	The Torch Landings.

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Advance from Alamein - Armoured cars waiting to go up Sollum Pass

Major Gerald Jackson had served in 6RTR during the retreat towards El Alamein in June and July 1942 and took part in a series of engagements which took their toll both on tank numbers and on crew-members. He then joined 10 Corps HQ as Personal Liaison Officer to Brigadier George Webb in time for the October battle.

I soon found that the work was interesting and had a hectic time working under George Webb on the movement plans of 10^th Corps to its battle positions, I had never realised before how much work had to be done to get formations and supplies into the places where they were needed and now on a scale that we had never experienced before. One of the first things that struck me was that this was now quite a different Army, the improvement in morale since Montgomery had arrived was amazing, in July I had left a bewildered angry army that did not seem to know what it was trying to do and had now come back two months later to this hive of purposeful activity.. . . Just before it all started I went up with the Brigadier to visit 30 Corps and we also visited some of the assault divisions including our old friends the New Zealanders, it was a hive of activity, tracks forward were being marked with signs and lamps for use at night and tanks and guns were moving up to their positions. I was particularly impressed with the new Shermans, here at last was a proper tank with a decent gun in the main turret and there seemed to be plenty of them. . . .

Advance from Alamein - 10 Corps HQ on the road

On the 23^rd October I went forward to Tac HQ and then in the evening at 9.40pm the barrage started, it was an amazing spectacle, gun flashes as far as the eye could see and the noise like someone continuously hammering on a big drum. The armoured divisions were moving up and I went to watch them following their allotted tracks, it was a most impressive sight and one had a sneaking feeling that one would have liked to be with them. . . .I spent most of my time going up and down from rear HQ to main HQ and at times visiting divisional HQs picking up all the information I could about how the battle was progressing, it was a new experience to see what went on in these HQs and to watch progress on the maps. As usual there was a lot of confusion at times but somehow it all seemed much better controlled and there was an air of confidence about that made a pleasant change. Minefields were again proving to be the big problem as these were on a scale we had never seen before and new ones always seemed to be found where least expected. The tanks were having a rough time and losses were very heavy, as usual mainly from those cursed 88s, we still had not solved the problem of getting the tanks through the minefields in support of the Infantry. We had a few bombs dropped on us, mainly by marauding night bombers as the RAF seemed to have complete mastery of the skies during daylight. For the final break through I went up to 1^st Armoured Division which was located just our side of the German minefields and in front of our guns, in the early hours of the next morning the barrage opened, 800 guns each firing 400 rounds, the noise was deafening and the flashes lit up the sky and in the distance one could see the almost continuous flashes of the shells arriving on their targets.

Ron Mitchel and Larry Gain - Ron killed at Sidi Rezegh and Larry killed Alamein

Larry’s grave at Alamein

By first light the New Zealanders had secured their bridgehead and the Armoured division was moving forward, 9^th Armoured brigade was soon astride the Rahman track but was held up by the inevitable 88 screen and suffered very heavy losses. It was interesting to be among the original defences and to see the pock marked ground where the barrage had fallen, the trenches, and here and there one or two of those 88s so well dug in that only the barrel appeared above ground level, no wonder they were so difficult to knock out.

Jeepery - on the way to Tunis

We moved our HQ through the Alamein position and could see the over-run enemy trenches, burnt out tanks, destroyed guns and of course the corpses. We were now kept frantically busy organizing forward supply dumps for the advance, we moved again to near Girawla, the main hazard now was scattered mines along the roadside and booby traps which were abundant. Traffic was chaotic as it had rained heavily and off the road the desert was a quagmire where even tracked vehicles could hardly move, the main road was an amazing sight with vehicles nose to tail as far as one could see, and if one wanted to get through one had to take a chance of mines and take to the desert, it was fortunate that the Luftwaffe never made an appearance.
We heard of the Allied landings by the Americans and British 1^st Army in North Africa and wondered if we would after all lose the race to Tripoli, it was still a very long way to go, and in the past we had always come to a grinding halt at El Agheila

See also Events in North Africa - June 1942.

Stanley Palmer and his fiancée

Stanley Palmer of the Signal section, 6^th Bn Green Howards wrote over two hundred letters to his fiancée Winnie during his service including the campaign in North Africa. He sailed from Gourock June 1941, spent seven days in Durban and arrived at Port Tewfik in July. The following year, having escaped from the 69th Brigade Box on the Gazala line, through the Italian lines, Stanley Palmer then took part in the El Alamein battle.

October 30^th 1942
My Darling Sweetheart,
Am anxiously awaiting your next letter, for it seemed a week, no two weeks at least since I received your last, I am not impatient am I . .But having gone through a hectic period, that when we come out, we feel we ought to go down on hands and knees, to thank God for having been delivered safely, and I do thank God that I am able to say, am well and in good health. Yes! Those few words mean such a lot these days. I can assure you that this is no time in which to continue my effort in writing, but want to make the best of any spare time that comes my way, that's if my mind is relaxed enough to settle down to such a delicate 'job' for I always try to make a letter as interesting as possible out of what is happening around me, not meaning that it's so monotonous, far from it, we get as many thrills, and excitements, in three days, than what some folk experience in a lifetime.
There is nothing better for building up the morale than successes, our turn has come, when we have experienced that, doing a fine job, many prisoners have been taken. Yes, we have some fine lads in the companies, couldn't have better, there will be more awards I feel sure, for gallantry and bravery.

November 20^th 1942
My Darling Sweetheart,
Except for a couple of air graphs and an airmail letter, must be about six weeks since I last wrote you a decent letter and how miserable I feel that such a long spell has had to elapse, no explanation is needed, for the events of late speak for themselves, I made an attempt sixteen weeks ago, was going quite well, then on we moved, and it's now that we are settled at least for a little while, that I shall now be able to get myself organised - what a lot in the meantime has happened. We didn't take such a big part in this final push, but we took as big a part as any until the 'crack', and then it fizzled out for us, it was over, being shepherds rounding up the sheep, it couldn't have been easier collecting the Jerries and Ities in by the hundreds, it wasn't a case of going after them, but them giving themselves up to us, needed no armed guard, was amusing at times to see them on their own, making their own meals, no one interfering, and then for them to be told it was time they were on their way. With the Jerry trucks that were captured, were used to transport prisoners, with their own drivers fetching them, going backwards and forwards ferrying prisoners, was incredible.
This pen I'm using is one borrowed from Ging, for mine has a broken nib, this is one that was given by an Italian prisoner, in gratitude for giving him some water, Ging wouldn't take it at first but the Italian insisted he should take it, the pen was most probably taken off one of the Tommies at some time, for it is a Parker pen, a darned good pen as well. I got some useful articles which had been left in their desperate bid to reach comparative safety, which was all in vain, for very few got away from the southern section. One day, was taking my turn on a carrier with wireless set, what a sight to see, all these prisoners being brought in. There were trucks right and left, some piled up, others burnt out, passing some still burning, but all is over for us, at least a little while, and how weary we feel now, we got excitement in the push forward, then to stop and come back, a deep depression has come over us, of misery, I have never felt as miserable for a long time, it's a case of being war weary I think . . this writing pad I am using belonged to an Italian, same day picked up a pair of binoculars out of a Jerry broken down car, later came across an Italian revolver, all mementos.
The desert itself is getting under our skin, the flies, the mention of flies, is nearly every letter, but when we are cursing them the whole day long, only those who have lived amongst such conditions realise. In the exchange here it's like being in a hive of bees, by the buzzing, we spend the whole day flapping our hands about, it's murder. Oh to get away from the pests, to go for meals, sit down, put down our pot of tea, and see immediately the rim covered, very rarely can I drink it without having to throw a quarter of my tea away, to slop out four or five flies that have committed suicide. What a life. Then the dust and sand that gets in the food, put my porridge down this morning, to butter a biscuit, and when I came to pick it up, I couldn't see the porridge for sand. No wonder so many on sick, there is an epidemic on just now. . . I'm not surprised at the millions of flies, for it smells of death, bodies lying around, never been buried, legs with a boot and part of the trousers lying about. Feel rather depressed these days for writing a decent letter, don't know what has come over us, but we are all alike, had too much knocking around to be happy, all looking forward to a break, but doesn't seem to be for us. So excuse me, Sweetheart, for such a bad letter. Lying deep in my heart, my yearnings to be with you again, are crying and longing, to have you comfort me, to console me, make me cheerful, how I am missing the times we spent together. Oh! If we could only meet again, for me to get away from war to peace, live human instead of living a life of hell, as we have lived for the last nine months, often at night as we lay in bed gazing up at the stars, we talk of life that used to be, and to when we return to dear old Blighty, seems so far away at times and so long since we saw our loved and dear ones, for so much has happened to us in that space of time, which has felt an age.
Perhaps at this stage would be no harm if I related to you a little episode which we had to go through a week before this big push, don't know but every time we have had to engage in action, always came on Sundays. Yes! Every action for us was on the Sabbath - that Sunday evening was a quarter moon, clear, we knew what our job was, a few days previously, that a certain position had to be taken that the Ities were holding, the famous troops of theirs, Folgore (paratroops) everybody seemed in good spirits despite the knowledge of what we knew, we were gathered together wondering. Of course an issue of rum was about to take place, as we often get in times when it's going to be anything like sticky.
Once on the way it becomes deadly silent, not a sound, just the crumping of feet over the soft sand, the barrage opens, the bangs, whines of our twenty five pounder guns, going over our heads giving the Ities a terrific pounding, with high explosives and smoke shells, finally reaching the position which has to be taken, we are all waiting, laying down, till the gap in the minefield is made, as we lay, bombs from mortars and shells were dropping amongst us, there are moans and groans coming from the wounded, where are the stretcher bearers was the cry, those are the lads who deserve praise, the magnificent work that they do in action, forever in the thick of it, it's pitiful to hear yells and screams coming from those around, we are all helping to comfort each other, bandaging those wounded, to say you're OK. A lot troubled more after, by shock, the reaction . . One time, mortar bombs dropped within less than thirty yards, then forming a square one in each corner, I couldn't see my mate for black dust, who was within arms length away, the smell of cordite filled our nostrils for a day, finally word came that a gap had been made, companies went dashing forward, mopping up the Ities who tried to stop them, small stuff, that is rounds from machine guns were whistling and whining in the air, on through the gap, bodies of dead were laying here and there, some badly hurt, moaning, giving out screams, Ities in their language, laid there calling for help . . First part of the objective was gained, the company lads had been marvellous, talk what good soldiers the Australians, the Indians, New Zealanders, believe me there are no better soldiers in this world than the English lads, British to be correct. There were some Ities to be mopped up yet . . A few lads were called for to do the job, on with the bayonets and over the top, to get those who were putting up resistance, what a fine spirit exists in action, lads were shouting and cursing to the Ities come out . . One minute later, over the top came trooping about 30 Ities, hands above their heads. What a sorry state, worn out clothes and boots, what a tough lot they looked with their grizzly little beards, just after seeing them and the noise had died down somewhat, for all the while it was an inferno, a continuation of bangs and cracks. We were digging in, that's the first job, a pal of mine a few yards away doing likewise, when a crack followed by a sizzling whine, we saw a tracer shell pass between us and explode 15 yards in the ridge side, didn't the sweat roll off my brow . . .was miraculous that so few of us got hurt in this certain spot, for the amount of STUFF that DROPPED, BUT IT WAS SUCCESSFUL . . .
Information we were told later, a doctor who was captured that night with the Italians told us, when they were attacked they were practically wiped out, only 30 of them left, took a lot of prisoners, and the few days we were there some of the lads spent all their time doing burials, such is the life, very unpleasant, that we wanted to get away from it all. But there's no better lads anywhere, no more willing to do their share. We know there are still hard times ahead for us still, but this time we are on the homeward way, which gives us still more heart . . News is better today than at any time in this war, advancing on all fronts. Good luck to the Russians, they have surely stood hardships and bitter fighting but their time has come for victories, the same as us, we're on the homeward path now Sweetheart, the future looks bright for us both, till we meet my love. God bless you dear. I thank God that I am able to write this letter to you. Your ever loving and faithful Sweetheart, Stanley

From North Africa Stanley Palmer and the 6^th battalion Green Howards moved on to Sicily before Stanley returned home for a long-awaited leave in November 1943. Stanley's brother Ronald served in the Royal Navy, his other brother Douglas was also in the Army and his sister Mary joined the ATS.

	Overview of the Battles.
	This page:experiences in El Alamein.
	The Torch Landings.