Ron Levett's memories of his time in the British Liberation Army during World War II.

Ron Levett, born in Alfriston, East Sussex, enlisted in 1943 and joined the Royal Armoured Corps. After completing his training as a Driver Operator he was sent to Belgium to join the British Liberation Army, where he was posted to the Royal Scots Grays and then to the Regimental Headquarters (RHQ) signals troop. Their task was to liberate Belgium, Holland and ultimately Germany. This is his story.

On the 22nd March the regiment paraded in a large farmyard and were addressed by the Brigadier, Michael Carver, who later became Chief of the General Staff. He climbed onto a farm cart and told us to break ranks and form a circle around him.

He told us about the forthcoming operation to force a crossing of the Rhine and ended with the admonishment. 'You are about to cross the Rhine, and I know what you are thinking of - Rape, Loot and Pillage. I draw the line at rape!'

On the night of the 23rd March the barrage started the softening up of the positions on the far bank. Near to the Rhine, batteries of light guns such as 20mm and 40mm Bofors guns were firing on a flat trajectory straight across the river.

These were followed by the medium guns (25pdrs) further back from the water and further back still the 6in. and 8in. guns of the Corps and Army artillery batteries. This made a colossal noise and continued well into the night. The 'swimming' tanks of 44th Royal Tank Regiment (RTR) crossed the river in the early hours of the 24th March.

By the early light of dawn the air armada flew over our heads carrying the paratroops of the 6th Airborne, followed by the air landing brigades in their gliders, towed by four engine bombers.

As one flew over to our left at about four thousand feet, the tail of the glider suddenly fell off. The front half of the machine began to swing down on its towrope and the glider pilot released the tow. The glider broke up as we watched and all we saw looked like confetti falling from the sky. I never saw any signs of the crew or the cargo.

A 4-engine bomber had been hit and was trailing smoke. I saw six parachutes leave the stricken aircraft as it turned onto one wing and fell like a stone. We had a front seat view. The bombers and glider tugs returned at such a low altitude that they had to climb to clear the higher ground that we occupied. As one huge aircraft flew over my head it was so low that I could see every detail of the bomb bay, whose doors were still open.

We packed all our kit and cooking equipment on the tank and were told that we could expect to cross the Rhine late that evening. We moved down from Udem to the river, driving through the gaps that had been bulldozed through the flood banks.

At this point on the river there were three of these about half a mile apart. There was one squadron in front of RHQ in the line-up waiting to cross by means of rafts pulled across the river using RAF winches that had previously been used to haul up and down the barrage balloons over London.

We waited nearly all day for orders to cross when news came that a pontoon bridge had been completed further down the river. The whole column about turned, drove back through the flood banks along parallel to the river, to the point where the bridge had been constructed.

This meant that RHQ were now in the lead, so my tank was the third to cross. It was a lovely sunny day, so warm that many squaddies had removed their shirts and were sunbathing on the bank of the Rhine.

Beside the bridge was a large sign stating that we were now crossing the Rhine by courtesy of an Engineer Company, United States Army. The bridge was a Class 40 Bailey type, sufficient to carry a Sherman, one at a time on each pontoon boat

There was a newsreel cameraman on the side of the bridge filming us as we crossed. As we drove over each boat I could see the water rising up the side, leaving about six inches of freeboard, and I was quite relieved to reach the eastern bank of the river, which at this point is some quarter of a mile wide.

As we drove along the bank there was a large bomb or shell crater that was spanned by a Bailey bridge that carried the proud sign. 'You are now crossing a shell crater by courtesy of a Field Squadron, Royal Engineers'.

We moved into a larger area on the edge of a wood just before dark and after quick meal laid our tarpaulin sheet down beside the tank with the bedrolls in a line on it, pulled the end of the sheet up over us and prepared to sleep with our heads exposed. If any action occurred during the night we could always slide under the tank.

As soon as it got dark the Luftwaffe attempted to bomb the bridge, but were prevented from doing so by the streams of anti-aircraft fire directed at them. From our viewpoint it was like Bonfire Night, with the streams of tracer filling the night sky.

The following morning we drove into the area where the airborne assault had taken place. In one large open space surrounded by trees the gliders had landed. There were a number of them at the far end of the field and some of them had been burnt out. The reason for this soon became apparent.

At the end of the field where we were, was a German Flakvierling, a 4-barrelled 20mm anti-aircraft gun. This had obviously been shooting at the gliders as they landed. Lying across the top of the gun was a Horsa glider, broken in half, with a Jeep and a 6pdr Anti-tank gun protruding from the wreckage.

The pilot had sacrificed his own chances to put the Flakvierling out of action. Lying beside it were the bodies of two members of the Glider Pilot's Regiment, both of whom had been wounded. Their wounds had been dressed but afterwards they had both been shot in the head. I think this would have counted as a war crime.

Lying on his back beside the track running across the field was the body of a young German soldier who could not have been much older that sixteen. He had been shot in the back and the exit wound had ripped his ribs out through his chest.

The thing that I found most noticeable was the surprised expression on his face. In the trees beside the field there were parachutes hanging, with a blanket covered body under each chute. In a barn close by was a row of about half a dozen paratroops covered up with just their boots showing. I think that this was the day when I realised that I was becoming immune to the sight of death.

Ron Levett, 2001