IN the months leading up to D-Day in 1944, few people at Merstham armoured fighting vehicles depot had worked harder in their lives. The depot existed to receive armoured vehicles, to waterproof them, to equip them with internal communication systems, to load them with all the necessary ammunition and to deliver them to the docks in London, there to be loaded on to landing craft and, eventually, to be shipped around to the assembly position on the south coast, ready for the off.
To make sure that no vehicle left the depot that was not satisfactorily waterproofed, six huge troughs, 15 feet deep, were filled with water. To merit clearance for delivery to the docks, each vehicle had to be driven through one of the troughs non-stop. If it stalled, the driver had to scramble out as best he could and then the vehicle would be winched out-and discarded. It would then have to be dried out, stripped of its fittings and ammunition and go back to the start-point for the whole process to be undertaken again.
For months the depot worked 24 hours a day non-stop. There were three shifts and the only people who worked 'normal' hours were the Commanding Officer, the Adjutant and the guards. Everybody else - all ranks - worked either 8 a.m. to 4 p.m., 4 p.m. to midnight or midnight to 8 a.m.--the shifts being 'rotated' to make them equal for everybody. Naturally, the 8 to 4 shift was the one to be looked forward to, but everybody mucked in uncomplainingly, for the job had to be done if the fighting troops were to be given a fair chance.
There was no easing up even when D-Day had come and gone, for the supply of vehicles had to be maintained - even accelerated, as the fighting became more intense. And it didn’t help when, on 13 June, a week after D-Day, the first flying bomb roared overhead at nought feet, suddenly fell silent, hurtled down on the nearby village of Coulsden and exploded in a shattering blast and a column of black smoke. It was Merstham’s bad luck to be on the flight-path of most of the flying bombs and it was the depot's even worse luck to be the reception area for more of them than seemed reasonable. It didn’t help, either, that the launching sites in the Pas de Calais area also worked a 24-hour day, for that meant that even in Merstham’s 'sleeping' hours ARP sites had to be manned. Life, though not as hard as it was on the other side of the Channel, was hard enough.
Not that one private soldier in the Royal Army Ordnance Corps based at Merstham, was complaining. His peacetime occupation had been that of a villain and he quickly recognised that flying bombs could be turned to his advantage when he was working on either the 8 to 4 shift or the midnight to 8. With the advent of flying bombs, people in the London, Croydon, Merstham and Redhill areas reverted to their blitz habits and slept either in their reinforced cellars, in the case of old houses, or in their Anderson shelters at the end of the garden. That meant that the villainous private soldier could wander about almost at leisure in people’s houses knowing that the occupants were safely underground or in their garden shelters.
Being a professional villain, he knew plenty of ‘fences’ in London and could dispose of his stolen articles in a matter of days. It was a lovely war. All he had to do was size up a likely house during a 'rest' shift, work out which way he could safely force an entry and then go back during the hours of darkness to take his pick. If a flying bomb or two roared along when he was about his business, so much the better - unless one dropped in on him, so to speak.
It couldn’t last - as all villains know in their innermost hearts that their luck can’t hold out for ever. He overplayed his hand one night, was caught, was hauled up before the Croydon magistrates and committed to the Surrey Assizes at Kingston-on-Thames. And that was where My Friend Harry came in. He was, at that time, Progress Officer for the Merstham depot, which meant that he had to ensure that convoys were made up of the correct types and marks of vehicles, that all were soundly waterproofed and fully equipped. Then he usually conducted the convoys to the docks at Canning Town or the East India docks and saw them safely loaded aboard.
Having spent long hours in law courts of various kinds in the course of his newspaper duties in peacetime, he was the obvious choice to represent the Merstham depot at the Assize court hearing and, if required, to testify as to the prisoner’s military record. So, with an ATS driver at the wheel of the depot’s staff car, he bowled off to Kingston.
The list of offences was enormous. “You are charged,” intoned the Clerk, “that on the night of July 15 you did break and enter the house known as No. 15 Purley Rise and therein did steal and take away the following items, to wit: one mink coat, one silver salver, one pair of gold cuff-links, one pearl necklace . . ." and so on and so on. Charge followed charge, and to all of them the undismayed soldier readily pleaded guilty. As a villain caught red-handed, there wasn't any point in messing about-and in any case life in gaol would be a doddle compared with life in the Army. So, he beamed upon the court and tried to be as helpful as possible.
Eventually, the weary Clerk came to the end of the list. “You have pleaded guilty to all the charges made against you,” he said, “and you will be judged accordingly. It is necessary for me, at this stage, to advise you that if there are any other matters you might wish to bring to the court’s attention, now is the time to speak of them. If there are, and you do not now acknowledge them, you will be brought back to this court to be dealt with later on. Are there any other offences you wish the court to take into account?"
The prisoner nodded co-operatively. “Just the one, sir," he said. “That house where I nicked the silver jewel box."
The Clerk waded through the lengthy list of charges. “Ah," he said. “The Gables."
“That’s right, sir," agreed the prisoner.
“Very well," said the Clerk, taking up his pen. “What do you wish to be added?"
“An apple, sir," grinned the soldier. “I ate it.”
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