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I went into the army, when I was 20. I joined the Royal Scots Guards 8th Battalion 15th Scottish Division. The Ladies from Hell the Germans called us, because in the First World War they fought in kilts.

When we landed off the ship in France, they'd blown it open ahead of us. I was driving then and they put us on a big steel landing craft with a little engine. We were all lined up on this ramp and then that set off across to the beach and it got so far and it couldn’t go no further. I was driving a jeep across and mine was the one with the Regimental Sergeant Major in it. We were dropped off and the water came straight up to our necks straight away — then we were paddling and the wheels were going round and round, the RSM was panicking and shouting “keep it going, keep it going - don’t drown” — well we hit the beach and the wheels grabbed on the beach and the next thing we had to put some more stuff on and tighten some blots because they were rubberized. Then they were shelling at us, so the next thing we dived under the jeep for cover. Anyway then a lad came down and asked “do they call you Ben Hardcastle?” and I said “yes”. Then he said “I’ve seen your brother, he’s two miles down the beach.” I was really shocked, wasn’t it funny, he must have known him! He said “you can’t go see him because it’s mined that heavy you’d get blown up.” So I never saw him no more all the way through the war but then at the end of the war as I went into hospital he’d just come out!

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