Home Guard
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The Wood Ditton Home Guard 8th Platoon - early nineteen forties. Son Cates 4th from left back row. Captain Long center front. |
Francis 'Son' Cates -the last survivor of the Wood Ditton Home Guard's early years.
In September 1944, the year before World War II ended, the Home Guard stood down. The danger of German invasion of our shores had passed.
However in May 1940, quite a different situation existed. Following the evacuation of our troops from Dunkirk it seemed highly likely that invasion by German forces would come at any time.
As a desperate measure to help our inadequate army, all able-bodied working men were recruited as Local Defence Volunteers, later to be renamed the Home Guard.
Francis Cates, popularly known in the village as 'Son' was one of the first to join. Today in 2006 he is the only surviving member of the thirty or so men who made up the Wood Ditton and Saxon Street 8th Platoon Home Guard during the first three years of its formation. He and his wife Vera now live in Hatfield in a comfortable bungalow, not far from the shops. Despite their age both can recall with remarkable clarity the critical times of the early nineteen-forties. These notes are taken from some of Sonny's recounted memories.
He was born in 1911 in Wood Ditton and destined, like most of the young men of the time, to work on the land. This suited him fine as he loved the outdoor life and working with animals. As a young boy he attended Wood Ditton School during the Great War, "the war to end all wars", which brought heavy loss of life and injuries among the village men.
When World War II came his job classified him as having a reserve occupation as he was then an experienced Stockman for farmer Stanley Hensby, work considered essential for food production.
The formation of the Home Guard gave him a chance to help defend his country, joining with other men of the village under the leadership of local farmer Lionel Long, who was appointed as their Platoon Captain.
Son remembers those early days as mostly boring route marches around the village, for men most of whom had been walking to work and then walking the land all day. What they needed most was training and equipment and they had very little of either, two elderly American Ross rifles saved from the Great War to share between the whole platoon, and very little ammunition. They had to improvise with weapons, a few had shotguns and Son was lent a small sporting rifle by his employer. At least they were soon issued with uniforms, which made them look more like soldiers. Parades usually dismissed outside one of the two village pubs, The Granby or The Blackbirds. Thirsts brought on by route marching were slaked, that is if the pubs hadn't sold out of beer, quite a common occurrence in those days of extreme shortages.
Attempts were made to subject the platoon to army discipline and Son remembers a retired regular army drill sergeant who he says "was brought in to try to make guardsmen of us, but most of us were just ordinary old country boys, so the sergeant had a problem". One small member of the platoon pushed in the chest and told to stand up straight promptly fell over backwards.
They were each to receive training in disassembling a live Mills bomb (hand grenade) and all met in the British Legion Hut at The Granby. Their platoon sergeant (John Coe who had served in the Territorial Army) decided that passing the grenade from hand to hand was too risky and he walked out, followed by the Corporal and the rest of the platoon, leaving Captain Long with no one to instruct.
Rumours of German spies, parachutists with unlikely disguises and 'fifth-columnists' abounded during the invasion scare of 1940/41, and undoubtedly a few spies were operating in the area. These were nervous times and the Home Guards were instructed to trust no one, so they set up road blocks using a hay-turner farm implement. Everyone was stopped and ordered to show their Identity Cards, even familiar village people. This led to an incident which could have ended in tragedy. A certain bomber pilot from Stradishall aerodrome had lodgings in the village and regularly travelled along the Kirtling Road. He became exasperated at repeatedly being stopped and eventually swore at the Home Guard and drove off before receiving permission. The private carrying the rifle, who had a reputation for unpredictability, fired at the departing car. The bullet penetrated the rear of the car and exited through the windscreen. The incident was hushed up at the time but that particular platoon member was not trusted with a gun while on road block duty again.
Lack of training and unfamiliarity with weapons caused other problems. One evening a platoon member handling his rifle in the kitchen accidentially fired a round which went though the ceiling and narrowly missed his young daughter sleeping in the bedroom above.
Each day two members of the platoon were detailed to carry out night patrols around the fields, but they only had 10 rounds of ammunition between them and they knew that if used there were no spare rounds available. Son recalls the scary experience of being out at night, with German planes droning overhead and not knowing who or what they might encounter.
He also remembers the day when he came face to face with an unexploded bomb while working in 'Clap Gate Meadow', which lies between the Blackbirds and the Church. One of the Davis girls from 'Whitegates' who was driving a tractor drawing a seed drill had discovered the three feet long bomb, which the drill had partly pulled out of the ground. She had lifted it onto the tractor and brought it to him. Son did not share her apparent unconcern and called out Mrs Hatley, the local schoolteacher and Chief Air Raid Warden. This lady obviously considered it was a matter requiring the correct approach and donned her A.R.P. Warden's uniform before visiting the site, presumably on the basis that if she was to be blown up she had better be officially dressed. The Army eventually dealt with the bomb.
Son was not a man to shirk duty but one evening he particularly wanted to meet Vera his future wife, who he was courting, so he made up a story about a sick cow about to calve and his presence being essential on the farm. He obtained permission to miss parade, which was fine until he and Vera were met by the marching platoon as they rounded a corner in Kirtling Road. He was the butt of much humor.
However in May 1940, quite a different situation existed. Following the evacuation of our troops from Dunkirk it seemed highly likely that invasion by German forces would come at any time.
As a desperate measure to help our inadequate army, all able-bodied working men were recruited as Local Defence Volunteers, later to be renamed the Home Guard.
Francis Cates, popularly known in the village as 'Son' was one of the first to join. Today in 2006 he is the only surviving member of the thirty or so men who made up the Wood Ditton and Saxon Street 8th Platoon Home Guard during the first three years of its formation. He and his wife Vera now live in Hatfield in a comfortable bungalow, not far from the shops. Despite their age both can recall with remarkable clarity the critical times of the early nineteen-forties. These notes are taken from some of Sonny's recounted memories.
He was born in 1911 in Wood Ditton and destined, like most of the young men of the time, to work on the land. This suited him fine as he loved the outdoor life and working with animals. As a young boy he attended Wood Ditton School during the Great War, "the war to end all wars", which brought heavy loss of life and injuries among the village men.
When World War II came his job classified him as having a reserve occupation as he was then an experienced Stockman for farmer Stanley Hensby, work considered essential for food production.
The formation of the Home Guard gave him a chance to help defend his country, joining with other men of the village under the leadership of local farmer Lionel Long, who was appointed as their Platoon Captain.
Son remembers those early days as mostly boring route marches around the village, for men most of whom had been walking to work and then walking the land all day. What they needed most was training and equipment and they had very little of either, two elderly American Ross rifles saved from the Great War to share between the whole platoon, and very little ammunition. They had to improvise with weapons, a few had shotguns and Son was lent a small sporting rifle by his employer. At least they were soon issued with uniforms, which made them look more like soldiers. Parades usually dismissed outside one of the two village pubs, The Granby or The Blackbirds. Thirsts brought on by route marching were slaked, that is if the pubs hadn't sold out of beer, quite a common occurrence in those days of extreme shortages.
Attempts were made to subject the platoon to army discipline and Son remembers a retired regular army drill sergeant who he says "was brought in to try to make guardsmen of us, but most of us were just ordinary old country boys, so the sergeant had a problem". One small member of the platoon pushed in the chest and told to stand up straight promptly fell over backwards.
They were each to receive training in disassembling a live Mills bomb (hand grenade) and all met in the British Legion Hut at The Granby. Their platoon sergeant (John Coe who had served in the Territorial Army) decided that passing the grenade from hand to hand was too risky and he walked out, followed by the Corporal and the rest of the platoon, leaving Captain Long with no one to instruct.
Rumours of German spies, parachutists with unlikely disguises and 'fifth-columnists' abounded during the invasion scare of 1940/41, and undoubtedly a few spies were operating in the area. These were nervous times and the Home Guards were instructed to trust no one, so they set up road blocks using a hay-turner farm implement. Everyone was stopped and ordered to show their Identity Cards, even familiar village people. This led to an incident which could have ended in tragedy. A certain bomber pilot from Stradishall aerodrome had lodgings in the village and regularly travelled along the Kirtling Road. He became exasperated at repeatedly being stopped and eventually swore at the Home Guard and drove off before receiving permission. The private carrying the rifle, who had a reputation for unpredictability, fired at the departing car. The bullet penetrated the rear of the car and exited through the windscreen. The incident was hushed up at the time but that particular platoon member was not trusted with a gun while on road block duty again.
Lack of training and unfamiliarity with weapons caused other problems. One evening a platoon member handling his rifle in the kitchen accidentially fired a round which went though the ceiling and narrowly missed his young daughter sleeping in the bedroom above.
Each day two members of the platoon were detailed to carry out night patrols around the fields, but they only had 10 rounds of ammunition between them and they knew that if used there were no spare rounds available. Son recalls the scary experience of being out at night, with German planes droning overhead and not knowing who or what they might encounter.
He also remembers the day when he came face to face with an unexploded bomb while working in 'Clap Gate Meadow', which lies between the Blackbirds and the Church. One of the Davis girls from 'Whitegates' who was driving a tractor drawing a seed drill had discovered the three feet long bomb, which the drill had partly pulled out of the ground. She had lifted it onto the tractor and brought it to him. Son did not share her apparent unconcern and called out Mrs Hatley, the local schoolteacher and Chief Air Raid Warden. This lady obviously considered it was a matter requiring the correct approach and donned her A.R.P. Warden's uniform before visiting the site, presumably on the basis that if she was to be blown up she had better be officially dressed. The Army eventually dealt with the bomb.
Son was not a man to shirk duty but one evening he particularly wanted to meet Vera his future wife, who he was courting, so he made up a story about a sick cow about to calve and his presence being essential on the farm. He obtained permission to miss parade, which was fine until he and Vera were met by the marching platoon as they rounded a corner in Kirtling Road. He was the butt of much humor.