He was born Herbert Marsh on 24th October 1924, the fifth in line of eight children and had a fairly normal upbringing.

When war broke out in September 1939 He was still a young lad of 14yrs but like most wanted to join up and be like the rest but of course we did not know then what lay ahead. At the age of 17 years in 1941 he suffered from Meningitis which laid him low for a while but he would be missed if we were ever going to defeat Herr Hitler and in 1942 at the age of 18 years I volunteered for the Army.

At the medical his GP Dr was not on the panel and so he was passed A1 and fit to serve to his delight, he was in! He was to join the Army at Richmond Barracks, North Yorkshire , thinking he had joined the Artillery but after basic training found he was to join the Green Howards' Regiment at Richmond Barracks. He would be taught how to strip down a weapon such as the Bren gun and then reassemble it. Each part had to be taken in the right order and it was required that you call out the name of the part as you stripped or assembled the weapon and to perfect it you had to be able to do it all blindfolded. It had to become second nature and with the help of the instructors we managed to pass the tests. It was a test that we would all later be eternally grateful to have passed when we eventually came up against ‘The Hun'.

He was to be instructed in driving and in the use of the 3” Mortar and became part of the Mortar Platoon having completed and passed the two coarses in the 10 th Battalion the Green Howard's Regiment in Truro, Cornwall.. Shortly after reporting for duty in Truro the Battalion was asked if it would like to train as a Parachute Battalion. Like most young men at that time Parachuting was seen as something different and exciting to be part of and of course that was true in his case. After the decision to make the 10 th Battalion the 12 th Yorkshire Battalion of the Parachute Regiment.

He went to Hardwick Hall to do the Initial training for the Parachute Regiment which was the first Parachute Regiment training school. It had already been used by SOE to train their Operatives so it was I suppose a natural choice for Para training. Situated near Chesterfield in Derbyshire and was in the grounds of a large Country Manor This was a place of vigorous physical training consisting of P.T (Physical training), runs and assault coarse with and without full kit and boxing. Full kit was khaki clothing and over smock, webbing, pouches, small pack containing mess tins etc. Our boots were the general black leather with leather soles and filled with segs. Sometimes referred to as Ammo boots they were difficult to walk in on hard concrete floors and you could be heard miles away.

The coarse was not for the faint hearted the hills didn't get any smaller or shorter and there was always one more ridge to climb. At the end of training he went to Ringway the then newly created No1 parachute training school. When he had conquered his fear of throwing himself out of a perfectly good aircraft in the uncertain hope that all would be fine he finally became a Paratrooper! As Montgomery later said?

What manner of men are these who wear the maroon beret?

They are, firstly, all volunteers and are toughened by hard physical training. As a result they have that infectious optimism and that offensive eagerness which comes from physical well being. They have "jumped" from the air and by so doing have conquered fear. Their duty lies in the van of the battle; they are proud of this honour and have never failed in any task. They have the highest standards in all things whether it be, skill in Battle or smartness in the execution of all peacetime duties. They have shown themselves to be as tenacious and determined in defence as they are courageous in the attack. They are, in fact, men apart -- every man an Emperor.

Of all the factors which make for success in battle, the spirit of the warrior is the most decisive. That spirit can be found in full measure in the men who wear the Maroon Beret.

Field Marshall the Viscount Montgomery of Alamein

‘Over the years I have found that there will be times when for long periods you never see another Airborne Brother but, when you meet, that instant unity is still there. It is something that remains with you for the rest of your life.' He was now part of the 12 th Yorkshire Battalion Parachute Regiment.

The Parachute Regiment had still a lot to prove at this time although other battalions already existed. The next 9 months was hard training as young soldiers many of us had not been in combat and were eager to prove our worth while being uncertain of what battle would bring.

On 26 th. May 1944 they moved to transit camp for the next 2 weeks, and had briefings etc each time getting all keyed up ready for the off only for the event to be called off and the process to start all over again. More Briefings, more packing, unpacking hurry up and wait being the common phrase. Going to the airfield for the last time, on the night of 5 th June 1944 the lads were talking about their prospects. He tried continually to rid it from my mind and thought of family at home, his father proud though he was fearful of what may happen and putting on a brave face for the sake of my dear mother. His mother crying inwardly for the safe keeping of her son, his sisters and brothers rallying round to make all things on the surface at least appear normal. Whatever, normal was in those dark hours.

Take-off time was 00:50 am 6 th June 1944 , on the way we had a cup of tea, there was plenty of bravado and banter to start with, but as they reached the Normandy coast it became very, very quiet except for the constant drone of the engine. The cylinder of the aircraft acted like a cocoon and shielded them from the events outside. Never the less he made it top the DZ and later on in the evening of D Day the air-landing brigade came in, the sky a complete mass of gliders a real spectacular sight.

The attacks on our positions eased off it just became guard duties and mortars to clean. The following day we had to fire the mortars as Jerry was using the crashed gliders for sniping. It was later they found 100 dead Jerries at the far end of the DZ.

It was now D + 3, 9 th June platoon casualties were increasing and included the Platoon Commander Lt Tottenham Smith, 2 Sgts, 2 Cpl's Sharp and Payne and a Pte all wounded and all happened at the forward observation post FOP. By the time of D Day+6 12 th June, the battalion which had left England with 600 men was now down to 350. Moral was not at its highest but they get on to do the job. They were back in a quarry rest area recovering from the last few days and nights adventures to rid Normandy of the Hun, when we were informed that tonight we are to attack the village of Breville .

Breville was a small village situate on high ground which overlooked the ground toward the beachhead. It was important that this high ground was taken so that the commanders could get on with planning the breakout and pivoting towards the East as from this ridge line you could see across the plains toward Caen . The battalion left at around 9 pm and it was still daylight, and the mortars and machine gunners travelled in wagons, while the rifle companies marched off to Amfreville. On arrival there a short service took place, conducted by our padre in the Amfreville Church . All the time it was going on the 25 pounder's were putting a barrage down. The mortar platoon helped the machine guns to build nests with sand bags. Already the shit was flying, and a jeep at the other side of the road got a direct hit and was soon on fire. It was frightening. The battle seemed to go on for ever and at one time shells seemed to be coming down like rain. I always had the fear that the next one would be my turn. No-one who has not been in that position can say what it is like, when there is nowhere to take cover and thinking that your next breath may be your last. When things did start to die down we hadn't even fired our mortars, the platoon moved up on the right of the village. We finished up in a field and in the corner was a big German gun pit. My friend Eddie and I were put on guard and we were told not to go near the gun pit as it may be booby trapped. In truth we were too tired to go sneaking about in the night. When daylight arrived we approached the gun pit, which was covered with heavy netting. There was a sudden shout of “MONSIEUR”, and inside we found four very frightened Jerries and to our surprise they were only about sixteen of age, young kids really. They were rounded up and taken to a prison cage.

Later that day D Day+ 7 Tuesday 13 th June they were to be relieved by the 51 st Highlanders. When the Highlanders arrived they packed up and marched back to their rest area, a really depleted lot. 350 men went into Breville that night and 55 of us marched out. The mortar platoon had just one Pte wounded. Bert says, ‘We were lucky buggers, no doubt about it and we were all pleased to have been mortar-men, and therefore 2 nd in line.' ‘We had been fighting for 7 days or more with little or no real rest never mind sleep and many of our friends had disappeared as thieves in the night.' The battalion was strengthened with soldiers from many different Regiments. They were not Parachute trained but no doubt would do the Parachute Coarse if and when they got back to England . I guess it was a case of needs must.

This was more or less the way things went until the breakout, moving from place to place digging in, setting up the mortars and stagging on. The battalion was engaged in 2 battles after that, first place I cant remember the name, the other was Point L Eveque. I can't forget that name it was the start of the end of my days in France . This was the place where I was wounded. Some time in the afternoon Me, H and Eddie were called on by Sgt Nankerville to go forward and do some Combat firing. We took the mortar barrel and base plate and went up front with C Coy. Once there Sgt N selected a couple of jerry targets and then guessing the direction and angle of the targets we fired the mortar, adjusted and then fired six rounds before selecting a second target. After using the ammunition we had we bugged out leaving C Coy to accept the reply and returned to our platoon position. We must have had some effect because shortly after we came under heavy shelling shortly after getting back. During the shelling I was hit by a piece of shrapnel in the upper right arm. Later on that day I finished up in Bayeuax field hospital and bought a ticket out of there.

On being passed fit again, he was sent to Hardwick Hall to be assessed to see if I was fit to still be a Para . He was given the all clear to return to unit. Once back at Larkhill Camp it was down to a lot of hard training along with all the new faces. By Dec 23 rd with all Christmas leave cancelled, order was to pack all your kit, and he left by train for Southampton not knowing where we were going exactly except back to the continent. Next day December 24 th , Christmas Eve he embarked onto a troop ship and sailed for France . Half way across we were turned back and took shelter in the Dover harbour, but come Christmas day we again sailed for Calais . That evening we left Calais by lorry, to take a terrible journey in extremely cold weather during which we couldn't keep warm.!

I remember one place where we dug mortar pits out of snow, pitched the mortars, then we had to put up sleeping quarters, tents again, it was hard work in the freezing cold. At some stage they crossed into Belgium .

Our next move was to a place over the 3 rd 4 th and 5 th January 1945 near Bure, before the battle our billet was a cottage, we had a good rest there but as usual it didn't last long. Our orders was to support the 13 th battalion who were to attack the village, our position was on a ridge, it was night time, lots of action going on in the distance we dug pits and slit trenches, no sooner had we finished , order was withdraw to the cottage. We did not take part in the battle, but we felt for the men of the 13 th Battalion. We knew they were going through what we had when taking Breville. It must have been hell for them. Next morning we were all stood outside, Jerry started to shell the position we had left, they just rained down. (Lucky buggers again).

Ardennes

The German offensive through the Ardennes forest in mid-December 1944, resulted in the urgent dispatch of the 6th Airborne Division to Belgium , so that they might assist with containing this threat. On the 29th December, the Division received orders to advance against the very tip of the German thrust, and of all the units involved, none became embroiled in near such hard fighting as the 13th Parachute Battalion around the village of Bure from the 3rd to 5th January 1945. They succeeded in taking the village on the first day and held it thereafter against fierce counterattacks, but in so doing suffered sixty-eight dead and one hundred and twenty-one wounded and missing. Near the end of January the ‘ Battle of the Bulge' was over and they moved up to Holland , Returning to Larkhill the end of February and back to training we did a parachute drop over the Thames for an exercise leading up to March 24 th and Operation Varsity, crossing the Rhine . On that occasion the DZ was a shambles with crashed liberator bombers, all types of gliders it was a big casualty list that day. My mate Eddie was wounded crossing the DZ. Our CO K T Darling ordered the rifle Coy in O.C. s to silence all guns.

Later that day we moved off towards Wesel . Going across Germany the order came that we had to fend for ourselves and live off the land. They split into groups, of 6 and lived like Lords for 6 weeks, the best thing KT decided. They advanced towards Osnabruck , had a bad battle on the way firing heavily for 2 days. Celle was next and on to the river Elbe . Crossing the Elbe we bashed on to Wismar on the Baltic. ‘ BASH ON ' became the battalion motto. Our Final place was Mecklenburg finishing there on the 2 nd May, six weeks and a lot of miles after we entered Germany .

Back to Larkhill where we was sent on 4 weeks disembarkation leave, and 2 weeks embarkation leave, on return we got kitted out in jungle green kit and long brown boots. Train to Scotland then the troop ship Corfu to Bombay which took 17 days.

The Japanese war was still on, so it was jungle training, it was the end of the war after the yanks dropped the two atom bombs. We now sailed for Malaya doing the actual landing we were expected to fight for, then back on board ship and on to Singapore . We got billeted in some houses, that were Officers married quarters before the war, it was called Alexandre barracks very near to the hospital of the same name, where the Japs shot all those nurses, the bullet marks were still on the walls. We got sent all over the Island to protect property, guard duty at Government House was another, a week's duty, the grub was brilliant we had the same as Mountbatten.

By Christmas 45 we sailed to Java, landing in Batavia now Jakarta , kept busy patrolling to keep the Dutch safe. In February we sailed to Semarang , a small part off the mid Java Coast where we had to guard the airfield. One day I was called into the HQ office. I was told my class ‘B' release had come through that meant I would soon be on my way home. I was not overjoyed but rather reticent at the thought of leaving those who had been at my side during the difficult times. I caught a plane back to Batavia and then a boat to Singapore where I waited for about 4 weeks for a ship home. I guess Singapore was the best place I ever went to, always spotless, and the tiger beer was the best I ever tasted. The ship was the SS Orient, taking about 4 week to get home, landing at Southampton . During the voyage I had a nice regulation hair cut ready for civvy street. All the Para's on board thought we would be going to Hardwick for discharge, wrong, Isle of Wight was the destination. Arriving at camp we were welcomed by the RSM, who immediately sent us all for a hair cut, ‘You are still in the bloody army' he said, what is more he didn't like was us wearing brown boots. My kit bag which had been put in the ships hold, it contained tinned fruit, it had all been pinched. A few days later it was back to Portsmouth for discharge and kitting out in civvies, and then the final journey, ‘Home James'. No more did I want to be a chef but the smell of fresh bread straight from the oven is still a joy to behold. No more would my mother reluctantly kiss me, waved me good bye and let me go. The job was done we had help beat ‘The Hun' and once more the life in England and Britain as in many other places across the world could get back to some form of routine and in many cases rebuilding. For me life was now for living.

My Army career was over and I had not made General so I returned to settle back home in Yorkshire . It was not until late in my life that I found a small group of Airborne Brothers in Chesterfield and Sheffield that I returned back into the fold. I can never forget those days, when as young men we strode out to meet whatever came our way without hesitation albeit with a healthy fear for what was to come. Those whom I had fought alongside were my friends, my colleagues and in those darkest of days, my family. They stood by my side and helped me when the chips were down and I, when I could return the favour. They were not hotheads, bullies, war-mongers or trouble makers. They were not career soldiers out to make a mark in life, but young men who knew that for the sake of humanity the job had to be done and, without question, they gave their all. Many of them did not return with those of us that were lucky enough to escape the visit of the Grim Reaper. Most remain buried in a foreign field.

‘At The Going Down of The Sun

And In The Morning

We Will Remember Them'