South Yorkshire Times, December 25th 1943

North African Victory

Wombwell Man’s Graphic Story

A battlefield experience extending from January, 1943, until the Germans were finally ousted from Africa, is related in an interesting letter sent home by L/Cpl. William Burton (24), son of Mr. William Burton, 45, Lundhill Row, Hemingfield, Wombwell., He has a wife and one child living in Manchester. An old boy of Hemingfield School, and formerly employed as a collier at Wombwell Main, he joined up in October 1939, was in the withdrawal from Dunkirk, and was drafted to North Africa in January of this year. He has since served in Tunisia, Algeria, Sicily and Italy. The letter, which extends to six closely typewritten pages, is a graphic and skilfully compiled recital of the soldier’s reaction to active service conditions. It was a “running fight” covering the better part of six months with no respite for either friend or enemy. Most of the place names of North Africa, made familiar by repetition in battle stories, are mentioned in the story. It is an epic which might well be read in schools.

Not Easy

We can give only extracts of the letter, and here is a sample. The action occurred on the Goubellat Plain. He says: “Our task was to clear some high features to enable the armour to pass through. Considering that the enemy had been preparing his defensive positions for some months this was not easy.  Nevertheless, it was accomplished with the aid of Churchill tanks and artillery support. After the attack we had the satisfaction of seeing our armour literally pouring through the enemy.  Here we met the famous Hermann Goering Incidentally the objective was known as Sidi Attia. On the first night of consolidation, we were tormented by a lone sniper who fired spasmodic shots throughout the darkness. Early next morning he was brought in and turned out to be a lad of some 16 years who apparently had failed to realise what had happened and believed his comrades were still with him. However, he soon realised differently.

Next night the Luftwaffe dropped flares all round our position so that the entire countryside suggested Blackpool illuminations. At one particular period I counted four flares which appeared to be directly overhead.  The Bofors opened fire on them but did not meet with any great success as they were very difficult targets.  Over and above the sound of Ack-Ack fire could be heard above the drone of a plane and then amidst all the noise came the unmistakeable noise of a bomb tearing earthwards. This decided our plan of action and we immediately scrambled for our slit trench.  The feeling of lying there helpless while overhead loomed death and destruction is indescribable. One goes hot and cold almost together and time seems limitless. There is nothing to do but hope for the best. Fortunately, our hopes and prayers were answered and once again quiet reigned.

Final Break Through

Regarding the final breakthrough to Tunis, he says the Allied gunfire was “Hell let loose” with the R.A.F. contributing to the infernal chorus.  Sitting among the guns they thought how lucky they were to be British and at the right end of that lot.  I was told by a semi-naked gunner that this was the biggest barrage ever. If anything survived that terrible ordeal it was a miracle. Many of the boys enjoyed themselves writing on the shells ‘a present from Sheffield’ and ‘Rommel, count your men.’ Many of our boys took a hand at firing the guns while the gunners sat around eating their evening meal and shouting instructions. The barrage lasted all night and well into next day without a single shot being returned.”

Every phase of the fighting which L/Cpl. Burton personally experienced is described in similar detail, and finally came the realisation that the great Battle of North Africa was ended. Then he goes on: “From then onwards we had the pleasure of seeing thousands of prisoners, chiefly German, flowing in, an endless stream of vehicles, some driven by our own boys, many of them driven by German and Italian prisoners. They carried with them all manner of things ranging from food to piano accordions. Men of the already famous Hermann Goering and Afrika Korps were here in numbers.  The Italians really seemed pleased that the campaign had ended, and said as much. Their friends, if such they could be called, showed, and expressed their contempt for the Italians. The Bosche were different. They still swaggered around, arrogantly, and defiantly. It was impossible to talk sensibly with them. They appreciated that the war was finished so far as they were concerned, but that was the extent of their admissions. They had a definite dread of Russia. In consequence we told them they were going to prison cages in Siberia. They were afraid of going to England, because they dreaded U-Boats. It was alarming to hear how the truth had been really denied to them. They told us fantastic stories of the German Army being in Leningrad, Stalingrad, and knocking at the gates of Moscow, that we would not capture Algiers or Oran, and would never bomb Berlin. They expressed and showed their fear of our R.A.F. and artillery. ‘Ere now, no doubt, they have a truer conception of the state of the world as we know it.”

“Since those days, I have spent a delightful week by the sea, bathing in the blue Mediterranean, basking in brilliant sunshine, eating fruit of every nature; have travelled many miles by road, have revisited the new capital of the re-born French Empire, and, incidentally, seen my first British film in some seven months, Now once again, I am by the sea, so near that I can almost hear it lapping against the seashore. Throughout my sojourn in North Africa, food has been remarkably good and reasonably plentiful, vastly different from our previous vacation in France, when the vital question was not what do we eat, but when. I never realised so many foodstuffs could possibly find their way into tins. Now I have sampled and, having tasted, enjoyed.

I have the greatest regard for the R A.F., without whose vigilance and constant aid the task could not have been accomplished so quickly and successfully. My admiration for the Royal Artillery is limitless. I think the Germans paid them the greatest compliment when they asked to be allowed to see our automatic artillery.  Now I must, of necessity, close my story, and in closing my chief concern is ‘What next? I wonder! The next is that L/Cpl. Burton is continuing the fight in Italy. His old school should read with pride of his exploits.”