Rob Dear

Rob, or Bob, Dear moved to Whitwell with his family in 1924, when he was 10 years old, and lived in The Bull on the High Street. Like many men of his generation, he didn’t talk much in public about his war years, although he and fellow Burma Campaign veteran Jim Last had many a fireside chat over a glass of whisky. But he did write memoirs:

“In July 1941 there were rumours flying around that we being posted overseas. Our Regiment was granted a week's embarkation leave so we knew the rumours were rumours no longer. I spent it with my wife of one year. The time passed so quickly and then the sad parting. Little did I know that four years were to pass before I would see her again. So back to Weybridge where my Regiment the 24th Tank Recovery Co. R.A.S.C. was waiting for the move.

“We didn't have long to wait. In early August we entrained at Slough for Liverpool and travelled overnight trying to sleep in the crowded carriages. Later the next morning we arrived at the Liverpool docks. There seemed to be hundreds of troops milling around waiting to embark with all their kit to ships of varying sizes lying at anchor. After many hours of waiting, with just iron rations to sustain us (I can't remember getting a cup of tea) it had become night-time. Eventually, our turn came and we were packed like sardines onto a ferry boat and headed in the direction of a black hulk. On arrival, a bulk door opened through which we climbed into the black bowels of the ship which turned out to be the Orient Line ship the Orensey.

“I was not impressed. Our army boots and equipment we carried made a lot of noise as we were led down several flights of iron steps. My Company was on F Deck right at the bottom of the ship, there were only the bilges below us. Then we saw some long tables with bundles on them. We were told that this was our Mess Deck and the bundles turned out to be hammocks. There were hooks on the walls and pillars to attach them to. We soon found out that hammocks connected to the wrong hooks caused chaos, so we said "bugger it" and slept on the tables, on the floor, on the stairs or along the wooden passage away from the stink of bodies, oil etc. In other words we used our initiative and broke the rules.

“That first night as we sailed out of Liverpool I found my way up to the top deck, struggling over chaps sleeping or resting in passages. I wanted to see what could have been my last sight of England. What I did see was Liverpool under attack from Nazi bombers. I saw several large fires and couldn't understand why they didn't attack our convoy of many ships. I remember thinking at that time, my God, leaving Blighty when it was under fire. None of us had any idea as to our destination, all we knew was that we had been issued with Khaki Drill and Tropical gear.

“The Orensey was a 22,000 Ton liner and there were about 4,000 troops on board including a complete battalion of The Kings Own Regiment. It seemed to us rankers as if the few officers on board had two thirds of the ship while we were packed like sardines into the remaining third. There were nearly 300 on our deck. We had a number of long tables each seating twenty men with forms to sit on. A Corporal was in charge of each table. Two men each were detailed to fetch the food.

“As the cook-house was a considerable distance away the food when it arrived was more often than not cold. For breakfast we often had tripe or black pudding, which I understand was a Lancashire delicacy. Needless to say this menu did not help when we hit rough seas in the Atlantic. Old soldiers call troop ships 'Vomit Buckets' and I can understand why. Those first few weeks after sailing were my most sordid and disgusting memory of the war. When one sees hundreds of men in the throes of appalling sea sickness, then one has some idea how awful it was. Our whole discipline and administration went to pieces.

“No one came to see whether the latrines were working (joke). They consisted of a length of timber fitted over a gully in which sea water flowed through. When the ship pitched which it often did continuously, water, vomit and excrement sloshed all over the deck. You couldn't get to the wash place (if there was one). You couldn't get to or even find your kit. It was all quite dreadful. I don't ever remember seeing an officer, it was left to the N.C.O.'s to try and create some sort of order out of chaos. And, this state of affairs went on for two to three weeks until we reached calmer and warmer climes. Then with a feeling of relief we took our kit and slept on the upper deck. Even then we had trouble because early in the morning the crew would wash down the deck, so if you heard the shout "Rise and Shine on the Orient Line", you had to move pretty quickly or you would get a soaking.

“Eventually after several weeks we arrived at Durban in South Africa. Then after a week or two, on to the Middle East. We still did not know what our final destination was to be but eventually our 7th. Armoured Brigade arrived in Rangoon.”

Rob was 27 years old when, in February 1942, he arrived in Rangoon, just as the Japanese were sweeping all before them. As a result, he was then in the middle of the 1,000 mile retreat to India, with the Tank Transporter transporting petrol, food and ammunition for the retreating army. The vehicles had to be destroyed before they crossed into India, and there followed a 10 day trek through the jungle to Chittagong.

Rob re-joined his unit in Calcutta, having lost three stone in weight and contracted Dysentery. He convalesced in the Himalayas but after returning to Calcutta fell ill with Malaria. There were no tanks or transport, so Rob began getting fit again through route marches and jungle training.

Once he had recovered, he was seconded into the Indian Army. While on leave there at Christmas in 1942, he bumped into Ernie Paul who lived in one of the terraced houses near the Maiden's Head. They ended up having a good few drinks together!!

In 1943 Rob was at the Battle of Arakan, and the following year on the Imphal Plain when the tide began to turn against the Japanese, though while recovering a tank his transporter ran over a landmine killing the driver but Rob was unhurt.

In March 1945, Rob was transferred to drive Amphibious vehicles for the assault on Rangoon. Luckily for them, they arrived in Rangoon just as the Japanese had pulled out and shortly afterwards surrendered. On 15th June Rob took part in the Victory Parade in his transporter. He was so proud to be part of that army.

Unfortunately Rob became ill again with Amoebic Dysentery and became very underweight.  At last he received his repatriation papers, his comrades helped him aboard ship, and in October 1945 he arrived back in Liverpool. His son, Martin, always remembers his father saying that a local asked him where he had come from. When he replied "Burma", the reply was "where's that?" Definitely The Forgotten Army!

Rob returned to Whitwell, meeting his eldest son Aiden, aged four, for the first time. He remained in the Old Lister Hospital until January 1946, and was de-mobbed in March after six and a half years’ service. He received a month's paid leave and £500.

In latter years he loved being in the North Herts. Branch of the Burma Star Association and was their Welfare Officer for a number of years. Rob was a very familiar figure in the village, striding along the High Street, always in jacket and tie, with his distinctive military bearing. He died in March 2011.