C.S.M. Ernest William Fereday
        Army Service No. 5334942
ERNEST WILLIAM FEREDAY
        28TH MARCH 1916 - 24TH OCTOBER 1995
[LS40-1] We are now in France. The newspaper 
        clip is interesting because it came out of 'War Illustrated', a magazine 
        published during the war giving a great deal of photographs, facts and 
        figures as near as it was allowed to do. The coincidence is, my sister 
        at home Barbara, was taken the ''War Illustrated' and she was looking 
        through this issue and saw the name 'Royal Berkshire Regiment', looking 
        along the photograph she spotted me amongst the working gang - Corporal 
        Fereday pounding cobbles, widening the roads, so we could get our heavy 
        tanks to travel along (only to make it easy for the Germans eventually). 
        With me on the 'Rammer' as we called it was Corporal Isaacs. We were all 
        members of the Carrier at that time. Walking along the top there, on the 
        right, is the Platoon Sergeant, there was such a rank at the time, he 
        was sometime afterwards killed for not getting under cover, silly man!
        
        [LS40-3] Next to this is a photograph of Barbara my sister, mentioned 
        above, which I always carried with me, above this photo is a copy of what 
        I wrote on the back. [LS40-3] 'I am home, but wounded, write as soon as 
        possible. Ern'. Underneath that in pencil, almost obliterated by time 
        now, are the names of my section that I was in charge of at the time, 
        when I arrived home (England) the hospital train stopped in Oxford Station 
        which was very frustrating. I didn't know where we were going but I hoped 
        we would be unloaded there, but it wasn't to be. I could only write with 
        my left hand as it was my right hand that had been wounded and also with 
        slight head wounds. I managed to write that message out and I handed it 
        to a railway porter and I asked him to deliver it to... Chawley Villas, 
        Cumnor, please. 'By all means son, by all means'. That must have been 
        on a Saturday because apparently he and his wife cycled up to Cumnor from 
        Oxford and delivered that postcard on the Sunday morning. That was the 
        first information my people had of me for three weeks!
        As I said, we didn't know where we were going on the hospital train and 
        eventually arrived at Sheffield Military Hospital or to give it its correct 
        name, Sheffield Military Emergency Hospital. It was in fact an ex 'loony 
        bin'. The part of the building the mentally ill patients were in was portioned 
        off and the rest of the hospital turned into wards.
        In view of the fact that this is being written over 40 years after the 
        war, I feel I must correct the point of view we had of the 'loonies'. 
        We were young, fit and healthy in mind and body. Such a thing as being 
        mentally ill was not known about. I now know that these mental patients 
        did in fact, suffer more, in order to create surgical and medical facilities 
        for the troops from France and also having had two periods of mental illness 
        myself (due to the stresses and strains of conditions of five years of 
        war) I apologise most sincerely to those patients for the off-handed way 
        that we regarded them as 'loonies'.
        
        The top left hand photograph shows two Frenchmen at the back and a chap 
        from the Royal Berkshire Regiment and me. That was when we had recovered 
        considerably and were allowed out and we found a photographic studio. 
        The two French chaps seem to be badly burned when their petrol tanker 
        was bombed and caught fire but were fortunate and had superficial burns 
        and they recovered very quickly.
        My friend on the left was climbing into the back of the truck and a bullet 
        went across his backside and laid open both cheeks. Quite a nasty wound, 
        but it was put right and of course he was sore and stiff so he walked 
        in a crablike fashion. I have told this story because it was quite a bit 
        of a laugh really.
        
        When we did go out in Sheffield, there was a large Woolworth store. Like 
        most Woolworth Stores, even today, you went into an entrance in one street 
        and came out into another. Well, we were walking through, my arm was in 
        a sling and he was walking crabwise. This was the time of Dunkirk remember, 
        all the civilians were welcoming all the chaps that were coming back. 
        They were shoving chocolates, half crown (12½) and cigarettes into 
        my sling loading it up and when we got to the other side of the store 
        my sling was absolutely packed. My poor mate, he had no sling so he didn't 
        have anything so we shared it between us. He then said "What shall 
        we do now, go back to the hospital?" "No fear", I said, 
        "We'll walk back through"! So we walked back through and the 
        same thing happened again I had another sling full of cigarettes, chocolates 
        and what-have-you, and when we got back to the hospital we had a share 
        out. That was a lovely job!
        
        Bottom left, the gentleman there was the Landlord of a particular pub 
        in Hereford near where we were based, he is with his dog. He looked after 
        us very well indeed. If we were a little short, he would say, "Never 
        mind, at the end of the week or when you have it" I cannot recollect 
        his name now but he is long since dead, but he made life bearable in September 
        1940.
        
        Top right, this is photo of Ormsby Manor, taken from a small lake set 
        in the garden. I took that, films were difficult to get hold of at the 
        time and you will notice a large black blob, don't know what that was 
        I'm sure. Those films were not of a very high standard but never the less 
        they seemed to have lasted a good many years.
        This Manor was taken over by the 18th Norfolk Division and I am afraid 
        that they did not behave themselves very well, they were mostly Territorials 
        and the discipline was not of the standard of the regular Army.
        They did considerable damage to the Billiard room, tore up the green cloth 
        on the table and damaged the electricity.
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