By rights, Neville Wood should not have survived the Second World War. Joining up aged 18 in 1939, he served 2,550 days – most of them away from British shores.
He saw action in Europe and North Africa, and dodged death repeatedly.
A Lance Corporal, of Hull, East Yorks, a driver with the 50th (Northumbrian) Infantry Division, he was at Dunkirk.
Later, in the north African desert, he was captured by the Germans, coming within yards of General Erwin Rommel, the notorious Desert Fox, but escaped in a stolen enemy ambulance.
He was also part of the D-Day invasion of Normandy. All of this he recorded in five handwritten diaries, kept against regulations, which he gave to his son, Mike, when he was 80.
Mike transcribed them, presenting them to his dad on Father’s Day, 2006. He then turned them into a book, A Soldier’s Story, although his dad sadly passed away in 2015 before it was finished, aged 94.
As we approach VE Day, these extracts offer a glimpse of Neville’s war, and commemorate his remarkable survival and sacrifice.
Dunkirk
The march was 27 long miles to the beaches of Dunkirk.
Neville was deep in thought as they trudged along in silence.
Overhead, they watched the planes circling and diving, listened to the sound of gunfire all around.
The villages they passed through were deserted, like ghost dwellings. The houses that were still standing were mostly flickering in flames or already reduced to burnt-out shells.
They carried on towards the beaches. The way was obvious from the tide of humanity heading in one direction and from the air activity over the dunes and the sea.
As far as the eye could see, there were thousands of men from numerous units, queues snaking into the sea.
In the distance Neville could just make out the tops of the heads of those at the front of the queue, being hauled into small boats to be ferried to the bigger ships. A Royal Navy officer was walking among the queues.
“We’re getting you all off as fast as we can,” he said when he reached Neville, “but it will take some time. I suggest that you dig yourself into the dunes, which will give you some protection.”
There was nothing to do but hunker down and wait. As light broke the following morning, the battle of the beaches intensified. Out in the water, ships zig-zagged back and forth.
Guns were blazing, shells exploding in the blue sky, a fireworks display from hell. Stukas screamed as they dived at the dunes and the ships. Sand mushroomed in the air, absorbing some of the blast.
Where it didn’t, limbs torn from flesh flailed, spraying the beach red. Those on the beach watched the dogfights criss-cross the sky as the German fighters joined the melee. Planes exploded or plummeted on to the beaches or into the sea, trailing smoke or fire and exploding on impact.
In the mid-afternoon it was their turn to be ordered to head for the sea. Neville felt hope flare as he moved away from the dunes. But that hope diminished when he saw the length of the queue meandering for hundreds of yards into the water. The next day, Saturday June 1, followed the same pattern. Neville stood in the water, rifle held high, and shuffled and waited and prayed as they were machine-gunned and bombed. As he stood in line, bodies floated by, bloated by the water.
They were sent back to the beaches. After two full days on the beaches, two full days of horror and terror, Neville was beginning to doubt. It was a desperate race against time.
They were directed to the water again. Minutes turned to hours as they shuffled forward, deeper and deeper. Water sprayed and choked them as bombs exploded nearby.
Such was the wait, it felt as though time had no meaning. There was just the cold, the numbing despair.
Then hands grabbed Neville. He started, hadn’t realised that he was at the head of the queue beside a Jolly boat. A Royal Navy rating, with HMS Basilisk on his cap, grabbed his rifle.
North African desert May-June 1942: Capture
“Company is looking for volunteers for some sort of hush-hush detail,” Alan explained. “Six wagons, tomorrow night.” The detail, Neville learned, was to load up with mines and take them to the forward boxes defended by the South Africans on the road to Derna.
It would take Neville right into the jaws of the enemy. It became even more perilous when their convoy was struck by a sandstorm.
“Well, where the hell are we?” asked Joe. They all looked around the featureless landscape.
Joe tilted his head to one side. He’d heard something. “Engines?” he asked. “Maybe the other lads?”
Neville shook his head. He could make out another sound he recognised. “That squeal is tank tracks.”
Neville and Nick pulled their rifles from their cab and dropped to one knee beside the front wheel arches, ready to fire. No sooner had they crouched down when two leviathans roared over the top of a shallow depression. Neville gasped.
Two Panzer Mark III tanks had them lined up in their gunsights. As they held their position, two armoured troop carriers emerged from the crest.
“Legen Sie ihre Waffen ab!” came the shouts from the first carrier, followed in guttural English: “Put down your weapons!” A German officer walked towards them. “Engländer?” As Neville glanced round, he could see he was covered by at least a dozen German infantrymen, the carriers and the tanks. “Der Krieg ist für Sie vorbei.” “The battle is over for you, Tommy.”
After driving across the desert for 20 minutes, they crested a slight rise. In the moonlight, Neville took in a mass of men and machines, of German infantry and armour. The vehicles came to a halt, the German soldier barking at Neville to dismount.
In the thin morning light, Neville tried to take in their surroundings. About 20 metres away from them
was a staff car, where three German officers had stopped to scrutinise a map placed on the bonnet.
The middle of the three removed his cap and ran his hand over his pate. He turned slightly, showing the black iron cross around his neck.
Neville double-blinked. It couldn’t be, could it? “Look,” he hissed to the others. “Over there”. Alan gasped. “Is that who I think it is?” The four British soldiers looked at each other in disbelief, each nodding slowly.
They were barely twenty yards from the legend of the German Army: Erwin Rommel, the Desert Fox. There they were, captives of the enemy, held at gunpoint, in mortal danger in the middle of a battle. And now they sat, awestruck, looking at the man many considered to be unbeatable.
“Oh, for my rifle now,” said Neville.
...And escape
His attention was distracted as an ambulance pulled over to their right.
Two German medical orderlies jumped from the front, leaving the engine ticking over as they headed
to the rear.
Now everything happened quickly. First there was a noise overhead, then the earth shook as the bombs from the RAF began to hit home. Then the German anti-aircraft guns responded.
The air was thick with choking sand and dust. As the explosions came closer and closer, everyone was running for cover. Wounded men stumbled, crying in pain for the dressing station. Rommel, to Neville’s disappointment, was straight into his staff car and was driven away to safety. Their guard had taken cover. That gave Neville an idea.
“Quick,” he hissed, “the ambulance.”
Under the cover of dust and confusion, the four of them moved as one. Neville jumped in behind the wheel, Nick sitting behind him. The others dived into the back. “Christ, where to?” he gasped. “Just drive and keep your head down,” said Nick.
Just as it seemed as though they’d got clear, on the road ahead a wagon was on its side.
Two German soldiers were on the ground, being treated for injuries. Several others were languishing by the roadside, smoking.
A lone German stood in the middle of the dusty track, feet apart, facing the oncoming ambulance. He began waving his arms to flag it down. Neville weighed up his options.
He was barely 20 yards from the enemy. Whether they could see his uniform he would never know, but as he continued to drive forwards, the German in the middle of the road began to lift his rifle.
Neville slammed his foot down hard on the accelerator.
The German tried to take evasive action, but took a glancing blow off the side of the bonnet, spinning him into the dust. The other Germans looked up, bewildered.
Moments later, bullets started to hit the ambulance.
Without pausing or looking back, they pushed on.
For almost 40 minutes they drove on in silence, no sign of any other vehicles. Until, that is, Neville saw something in the distance.
“Tanks,” he said, nodding ahead and slowing the ambulance down. Theirs or ours?” asked Nick. It was the 3rd South African Division.
D-Day, The Normandy invasion: June 1944
This was it – the real thing, the green light. The invasion of mainland Europe was set for Tuesday, June 6.
At 7.30am the great armada sailed out of the West Solent for France. The final chapter of Neville’s war was about to begin.
As the blackness of night faded into the grey of morning, so the silence, too, started to disperse.
What began as a distant hum became a nearby drone then a deafening roar as wave upon wave of bombers passed overhead.
The warships opened up next, broadsides of heavy guns belching out flame and smoke, thundering shells into the midst of the enemy.
The first wave of infantry clambered down the nets of the nearest ships into the landing crafts. Prayers were muttered but little else was said as they waited to head for land.
At 9.45am all the drivers were called together. This is it, thought Neville. Here goes nothing.
At 11.30am on Tuesday June 6 1944, Neville and 552 Company drove out again on to the European mainland. Neville’s wagon lurched into the water. He hit the accelerator hard and rocked and rolled up the beach, enemy shells exploding all around him in eruptions of sand, debris and body parts.
He tried not to think about the fact the beach was littered with bodies, the water draining off the wagon tinged with red. Vehicles were everywhere; prisoners were under guard, their hands behind their heads, receiving an occasional kick to remind them they were now under British orders.
But there was no sign of the infantry, already advancing inland to establish the bridgehead and with it the first-day objective of Bayeux.
The whole area was littered with dead bodies contorted in the agony of death. British and German soldiers seemed to be hugging each other in a deadly embrace as they had died fighting hand to hand.
As they waited for the order to move, crouching behind their cabs in small groups, Neville heard a shout.
“Mon ami! Mon liberateur! Bienvenue en France!”
An elderly French couple was approaching down the narrow country road, hands held aloft in welcome, holding a bottle of wine, joy etched on their faces.
Neville looked up in alarm and waved frantically for the couple to take cover. Whether they couldn’t hear him or didn’t understand, the sound of a single rifle shot cut through the crump of the big guns, followed by a smash as the bottle hit the floor.
The old man spun through the air on to his back, shot through the head by the sniper. The joy of the elderly lady was replaced by wails of despair: the death of her husband right at the moment of freedom.
VE Day
On Sunday May 6, Neville joined Nick, Alan and other members of C Platoon. He had just finished
a conversation with Sergeant Thompson and had some news he’d been instructed to report back.
“What’s up, Timber?” asked Nick, looking at the frown on Neville’s forehead. “Well, that’s just about it,” began Neville.
He looked at the quizzical expressions, unsure where to start.
“Surrender of all German troops in north west Germany.”
They all looked at Neville and at each other. Their mood seemed the same as Neville’s: there was no rejoicing, just something akin to bewilderment.
“So it’s all over, done with?” asked Nick. “Well, that’s good then, I guess,” commented Alan. “Yes, I suppose it is,” agreed Nick. “Gave me a funny feeling when I heard,” said Neville.
His head was fizzing with questions about the future. What happens now?
On Monday, May 7, 1945 the unconditional surrender of Germany was signed by General Jodl at Reims in north-eastern France.
The war in Europe was over.
- A Soldier’s Story by Mike Wood, to be published by Robinson on April 30 for £20.
