91Čȱ¬

The late Robert Owen Hughes, Bob for short, served in the Royal Marines 1939-1944 after travelling extensively around Europe before the war. This is his story re-told by his widow Elizabeth Hughes who served as a WREN in the War.

Bob was the eldest son of a hill farmer, in a village called Llanarmon Dyffryn Ceiriog, in North Wales. Money and jobs in hill farming areas in North and Mid-Wales were extremely hard to come by. Bob, like many farmersā€™ sons and daughters had to leave the area to find work, so he went to London in search of work. Bobā€™s brothers also went to London for work. Bob also travelled abroad in the late 1930s to find work to help pay the rent for his parentā€™s farm.

Travelling in Europe Pre-War years

Bobā€™s travels started when he cycled to London in 1937, where he found work in various places, ending up as a qualified Cocktail bar-man, whilst working in a number of famous Restaurants in London. Bob gained a qualification and certificate for this type of work.

Later when Bob was serving in the Marines during the war, he received on more than one occasion a small hamper of alcohol sent from the Restaurant, to the delight of his fellow Marines.
Bob befriended the Chef at a particular restaurant, who kindly gave him letters of ā€˜Introductionā€™ to fellow chefs in France, Italy and Switzerland.

In July 22nd 1937 Bob crossed the English Channel and travelled to France and then on to Italy. On the train journey from Milan to Geneva, Bob was beaten up by the Brown Shirts of Mussolini and was chased into the mountains. All his money, papers and letters of introduction were taken, leaving him penniless and in fear of his life.

He stayed for a few months working as a waiter in St Moritz, but soon moved on to Nuremberg ā€”on the 28th September 1937. He visited many places in Europe, working as he went. Often he would get letters of ā€˜introductionā€™ to hotels, but mostly there were no openings.

Grand Hotel in Nuremburg

In Nuremburg he worked in the Grand Hotel where he was helped and mothered by two older Bavarian ladies working at the Hotel. They warned him to be careful with whom he spoke to and made sure he said ā€˜Heil Hitlerā€™ instead of ā€œGuten tagā€ (good day) or ā€œGuten morgenā€ (good morning). By this time he had managed to pick up a great deal of the German language. He was going to evening classes to learn German whilst he worked in Germany. The classes where provided for the workers free, also workers with their weekly paycheque they got a list of options for extra curricular activities free. Such as the Opera, Ski-ing, Camping in the mountains etc. (This was a policy to keep all the German workers fit and happy for work.) Bob was given a German paycheque not a foreign student/visitor paycheque.

On one occasion, some-one unknown to him, reported him for not saying ā€˜Heil Hitlerā€™. He was interrogated by Himmler, who Bob said carried a whip.
I remember Bob saying that he thought that because he spoke German with a Welsh accent, Himmler must have thought he was speaking ā€˜Black Deutschā€™ thus getting him off.

Once he was asked by a local young farmer to walk in the middle of the road, out of earshot and questioned whether he liked Hitler. All Bob dared to say was perhaps Hitler was fine for the Germans but did not think it would do for the U.K. The farmer then said his family hated Hitler, and they werenā€™t able to buy feeding stuff and fodder for their stock as long as they refused to be members of the Nazi Party.

The Grand Hotel was used annually for the Nazis lunch before the famous huge parades in Nuremberg. As a waiter Bob served all the top party members.

On one such annual lunch, whilst serving tomato sauce to Hessā€™s neighbour, Hess suddenly turned around, knocking the sauce boat and sauce on to his special breeches. Hess being someone with stature and fond of his uniform was not too happy as you can imagine, it would have been a nuisance for Hess who would have to change before the parade. Luckily for Bob the Manager of the Hotel saw the incident and quickly dragged him out.

Bob managed to keep one of the seating lists for the Nazi lunches at the Grand Hotel. It included many well-known British aristocrats and the Duke and Duchess of Windsor. His diary notes that on one occasion, October 20th1937, while visiting the Hitler Platz on his day off, he saw the Duke of Windsor, and again later walking by the castle. Bob use to say that he used to stare at the UK guests trying to shame them from saying ā€˜Heil Hitlerā€™!

Kristelnacht

I remember him telling me that he witnessed ā€˜Kristelnachtā€™. But he didnā€™t like talking about it. Although I remember him telling me about the queues waiting for transport by trains, mostly cattle trucks to concentration camps. At that time German people were told they were for correction, and minor wrong doings. He remembered that the two Bavarian ladies were shocked when the Synagogues were smashed.

For his own safety he then escaped on to Vienna via Austria.
In Austria he worked in the kitchens of a hotel. He was still sending as much money as he could afford back home, to help his parents pay the rent on the family farm.

I remember him telling me about when he witnessed the Nazis marching through Vienna in 1938. He recalls that he remembered the Nazis ordered all Jews to lick the road ahead of the marchers. At the time the kitchen staff joked about it saying ā€œNext week we will be in London, Bob!ā€ Soon after that Bob left Germany.

The Royal Marines

Bob was regularly sending back home letters and money for his parents. He said he soon realised that the war was inevitable, when he was interrogated about his letters home- they were all in Welsh! The Germans where obviously getting nervous of spies. Realising that if he stayed any longer it would be dangerous, he stole a push bike and made his way to the nearest safe dock and managed to get passage home.
Bob managed to get home before the war started!

At 91Čȱ¬, no one would believe him, when he told them of the Jews treatment! He felt that war was just a matter of weeks and months. So as soon as he got back onto British soil, he felt that he had a moral responsibility to join the armed forces. He had hoped to join the Navy, he was unlucky. The Royal Marines however took him, and after training he ended embarking to Cairo.

When they arrived in Cairo they all felt very silly; as the MOD forgot to give them any tropical kit and everyone else had shorts and brown knees!

After a short spell in hospital in Cairo, he ended up with the 8th Army at Massa Matruh, and later in El Alamein. After a mad rush across North Africa mopping up the Italian prisoners, he joined the Americans and sailed for Sicily. Many of the men went down with Malaria and Undulent Fever. The troops were not given Malaria drugs, even though they slept in the worldā€™s worst malaria swamps. Bob slept under the lemon trees out in the open; of course in hindsight the citrus would have offered some protection from Mosquitos.

After Liberating Sicily

His small unit did not then go on to Italy. They came home to Thurlestoneā€™s training ground in Devon, expecting to go on to the Far East. Instead they crossed on D day and on through Belgium and then on to the Netherlands, where they fought at Nijmegen Bridge, living in a small hut which 3 of his unit built out of sleepers.
1944 was a very hard winter. They ended up part of the ā€˜Market Gardenā€™ offensive and Arnhem, where so many of the men died.

Mistaken for a German Spy

One evening he was walking beside a dyke on his way back to Middleburg, it was getting dark when suddenly six young men nervously pointing shotguns at him surrounded him. They were some of the Dutch underground fighters. After arresting him, Bob muttered ā€œDduw anwyl am helpuā€ / ā€˜Dear God help meā€™, especially as he heard one say letā€™s slit his throat and throw him in the water.

They must have thought his Dutch had a German accent, he having not long ago having been living and speaking German! He could have been thought of as a German spy! But then one of them said wait a minute, then asked him if he knew a town called Llangollen and Prestatyn, to which Bob said his home was near Llangollen. They then asked him to sing the Welsh national anthem; and in a quaky voice he sang ā€˜Mae hen wlad fyng hadauā€™, confirming his story, it saved his life!
It turned out they had been evacuated to North Wales in WW1 as children and went to the local Welsh schools where they were taught in Welsh. They were familiar to the Welsh National anthem.

After the War

On demobilisation in 1944, Bob took a one year special farming course for ex-service men at Plas Dinam. Lord Davies had given his home, Plas Dinam for this course. My father was a friend of the Principal and was invited with my mother and me to the End of the Year Dance. Father being an old soldier of WW1 noticed Bobā€™s small Royal Marine Association badge, so he took me up to Bob and said, ā€˜May I introduce one Royal Marine to anotherā€™! I had not long been demobilised from the Wrens, I had been a Royal Marine Wren. I had never gone out with Royal Marines before as they bossed us Wrens. Incidentally, when I went by truck to Thurlestone, Bicton and Plymouth to work, I could well have been there at the same time as Bob!

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