Diaries show D-Day reality soldier hid from family

Sydney Bennett was your archetypal practical bloke next door.

A builder, electrician, mechanic… precisely the sort of man you’d want to have alongside you on the D-Day landings, which are being commemorated 80 years on.

Although he died aged 69 in 1981, this Llanidloes tank engineer’s diaries and letters home provide an almost unique account of both the fighter and the family man.

They vary from concern for his children – Gloria and Paul – to chillingly matter-of-fact descriptions of the horror surrounding him in 1944 France.

His granddaughter Julie Jones said: "You can tell from the difference in tone between his letters and his diary, that he was living a double life which we can’t even comprehend.

"Writing home, he wanted to reassure and love my nana, mum and uncle, but privately – away from the censor’s eyes - he noted everything which horrified, amused and baffled him about the Normandy landings."

Landing on D-Day+1, Sgt Bennett's diary account gives an accurate depiction of the Allied force’s progress to push back the Germans.

7 June

"Activity by Jerry continued most part of the night until the arrival of Spits and Lightnings in morning. Went inshore to land, sea rough, first attempt failed, water too deep. A few tanks lost in deep water. One went under, I was hanging on for grim life to prevent being swept overboard."

12 June

"On the move again down south moving on behind the tanks which were continually in action making a way through. Snipers put a bullet past my ear as we were going along, kept head down after that."

14 June

"Stopped in tank all night. Jerry shelling us with 88s [mm guns] which dropped all around. Shelling continued until 8 o’clock this morning. Some just missing our tank as they whistled past."

Meanwhile, his letters home read: "Hope you are all OK darling, and I miss you so much. Still, I’m keeping very well and fit, so that’s worth a lot, isn’t it?

"As you can guess dear, I am very busy, still time passes such men quickly and every day that passes is one day nearer the end of this war and needless to say I and millions of others feel the same about it."

The clearest contradiction between his letters and diaries are Syd’s description of the weather.

27 June

"Rained heavily all day and all night. Not much like summer weather, as it’s so cold.”

Though on the same week he wrote to his wife, Alice, (whose pet name was Joe): "The weather is still improving and it’s really grand this afternoon."

26 June

"Rotten night. Quiet. Kept waking up. Two of our planes chase by Jerry, (so I’m told) and were brought down by ack-ack gunfire. One of them crashed in next field to us. Pilot killed instantly."

19 July

"This has been one of the most unpleasant days of my life so far. Went out in sunshine to get tank out of bomb crater, about 12 feet deep.

"Officer commanding tank had been snipered and was still in turret. We buried him on the spot and managed to get tank out. Officer was a new one and was only just 20 years of age.

"Dead Jerries and our men lying around in various places. Should have been buried before now. Stop at one place for an hour and then on.”

In one passage which is too gruesome to reproduce in full, Syd recollects the scene of tank tracks churning up the bones of fallen combatants but he didn’t know which side they were from.

Yet his love of cigarettes and even eggs shines through when he records collecting "a few fresh eggs from abandoned farms" and having "egg and sausage for breakfast" after exchanging one cigarette for three eggs.

Syd even takes time to diarise football, cricket and cycling competitions in his unit while his letters focus on his family life back home.

"Gloria tells me that Paul, (who was a toddler), says puff! when she mentions daddy to him.

“I hope that if this letter is censored that the censor will allow that bit to go through, as I know how much it will ease your mind.

"Anyhow I’m OK dear, and my only worry is not having your letters, to know how you are.

"I hope and pray that you are well Joe and the kiddies, who I miss so."

Julie Jones said she could not recognise the soldier behind her grandfather.

“The only sign we had that he was ever even in the Army was a framed photo of him in uniform next to the telly. As far as we were concerned, he was just ordinary, safe, old grampa.

“Until he died, when I was 16, I’d never heard of his diaries... before then he’d just been the kind man who’d allowed me and my cousins to put curlers in his usually Brylcreemed-back hair after he got out of the bath."