The Colonel

Camp News, Volume 3, Issue 151, 4 December 1942, Page 3

The Colonel

The corporal who rose to be a colonel within a year. He is Lieut.-Col. Ernest Martin, 41, born in Russia, now in charge of a secret base there. Martin was called up in 1939, won D.C.M. at Dunkirk, was sent to Russia and promoted Lieut.-Colonel. Here is a description written for the “Daily Mirror” by a former colleague:— 'May, 1940. Dark days ofgrim fighting, withdrawals. Pursued by dive bombers, Me 109’s, every type of aircraft Jerry could put into the sky, the regiment falls back to Dunkirk. Batteries take up positions, the enemy in front, the sea at their backs. They stand with their guns and equipmentwhat is left of the troop commanded by the bloke everyone knows as Jim. ' They have lost their officers killed and wounded; one gun is, out of action, but still they stand with Jim Martin in charge. ‘ The B.E.F. were being evacuated from Dunkirk, and the regiment was giving support with A.A. defence. All the ammunition that was left was stacked round the guns, and the boys just waited. , They ,didn’t have long to wait. Over came Jerry, along the beaches they swept, machine-gunning, dive-bomb-and high level bombing. All hell let loose. “Let ’Em Have It.” “0.K., boys,” came the shout from the command post, “let ’em have it.” That was all that was needed, then up went the muzzles, into the breeches went round after round, rammed home by sweating, cursing gunners. Nerves were strained to breakingpoint, but all the time there was that

bloke Jim Martin, with his tin hat cocked on one side of his head, cool, calm and collected, giving a hand here, orders there, gee-ing the blokes on when they wanted to drop, always ready to. do any man’s job when they were tired. He was recommended for his D.C.M. by- the Senior Naval Officer on the beach, but somehow he wasn’t very interested, there was a job of work to be done. ...

Everybody knows the story of Dunkirk, how we came back, but nobody had heard of Jim Martin. In September, 1940, he was promoted B.S.M. x and posted to my battery, and was. the finest B.S.M. anyone could wish for. He worked hard, played hard, cut red tape right and left and got any job done. He was loved and respected by men who didn't know him from Adam. On “Special Mission.” Soon afterwards Jim Martin was made a second lieutenant, and the men who had eaten with him, slept and fought by his side, knew him as Mr. Martin and were saluting .the rank he held. But here was a difference. It wasn’t just a question of saluting the pips he wore. This was a man and we were doing what we, and the men in his old troop, would have wanted to do. He was with us from that day until June, 1941, when a special order came through for him to report to H.Q. The troop was called together by the troop commander; a few words spoken. Mr. Martin was leaving us on a special mission. . \ , Some of us had an idea what it was, but the one thing that stood out was we were losing an officer, a gentleman, and the best friend we had ever had. We knew later that he had gone to Russia, and often wondered how he was getting along, and what he was doing. Seeing his photograph in the papers brought, it all back. This is not a fairy story, or a biography of a man. It’s just a little way of showing what Lieutenant-Col-

onel Martin meant to all the men who knew him and served with him. We, the men of his old troop and battery, want to send this message: Good luck, good, shooting, and stay on target Jim.