Jonesieblog

This letter was written in November 1943.  By then, Dad had exchanged the heat and flies of the desert for the mud of southern Italy.  This is the longest letter we have, and in it he writes a brief “history” of his time in the 8th Army.

Stumble it!

The previous day, the ascent of the Allalinhorn had seemed like a big deal. Now in retrospect it seemed like a doddle – a quick jaunt up from the top of the mountain train. Our thoughts turned to plans for the rest of the week.

This first week was supposed to be an acclimatisation week, so we wanted to get progressively higher, and in particular to spend nights in huts at increasing altitudes. But we were aware that Alpine weather is a fickle thing, so we also wanted to make the most of the good weather we were experiencing.

I came up with a plan: to climb two more 4000m peaks before the end of the week –  the Weissmies and the Nadelhorn. It seemed very energetic, but I was expecting the weather to get in the way at some point and impose some rest.

After lunch on Monday we caught the local free bus down to Saas Almagell, and set off up towards the Almageller Hut in blazing sunshine.  We climbed about 300m up the right-hand side of a gorge, only to discover that the route across from that side to the hut was closed for repairs, so we caught a chair-lift back down to the valley and started again on the left-hand side!  After a steep slog back up the first 400m of the valley, we collapsed in a sweaty heap for a rest

Resting on the way up to the Almageller Hutte

The plod up to the hut was relentless, and we knew we risked arriving too late for dinner, but in the end we arrived with a few minutes to spare, in well under the all-important “book time”!



Just below the Almageller Hutte



2896m and a bed for the night

At dinner, we chatted with a couple of French climbers, who recommended the route up Mont Blanc from the Aiguille du Midi as a good alternative to the usual Gouter route.  After dinner, we met a group of young Brits who were planning to do the Portjengrat the next day.



Alan outside the Almageller Hutte with Portjengrat behind him

This was going to be our first proper alpine start, so we organised our kit in the crowded dormitory then hit the sack, with industrial strength earplugs in place! This was going to be a much bigger day than the Allalinhorn, but I was confident about our abilities this time.

After the usual horrors of a night in a hut, we were up and on our way by 4am, with head torches to guide the way along the path up to the Zwischenberg pass. At this stage we were walking in a line with about a dozen other climbers.

At the Zwischenberg pass we turned left and headed up to the base of a steep triangle of snow, where we kitted up.

Kitting up on the Weissmies

The ascent of this steep snow was pretty straightforward, if exhausting.  My only worry was the risk posed by some of the other parties.  There was one particularly large gentleman being dragged up by a Swiss guide just above us at one point.  I changed our route to avoid them, as I didn’t fancy any of our chances if the big guy took a tumble!  This part of the climb was comparable to something like Central Gully on Ben Lui (a Scottish grade 1 winter climb).

We emerged into the sunshine and onto the rock of the South Ridge, which was technically similar to Tower Ridge in Summer (without the Gap!).  It would have been an enjoyable scramble were it not for the fact that the altitude was taking its toll.  I was feeling pretty worn out by the time we reached the top of the scramble and put our crampons back on.

The final ridge across to the summit was spectacular – a real knife-edge with massive exposure on either side.  We thought manly thoughts and stepped across, glad to be roped up.  Once the ridge had widened a bit, Alan snapped this picture:

The final few metres to the summit of the Weismies

The views from the top were spectacular, and we shared the summit with one couple.  Looking down towards the Hohen Saas cable car station, we could see long, snaking ropes of “clients” being guided up towards us.

On top of the Weissmies (4027m)

The descent went quickly and smoothly.  We could see, from above, some snow bridges which looked rather insecure, but when we got down to them them seemed very solid, and we crossed them with only minimal yelping of “keep that rope tight!” and “keep moving!”. After the snow bridges, we crossed through some spectacular glacial terrain – teetering seracs and gaping crevasses.

Looking back up at the descent route

40 minutes later we were nearing the end of the track across the glacier when we met a middle aged woman walking towards us with no rope on, no crampons and no ice axe.  A guide 50m ahead of us spoke to her, but she didn’t seem to want any help.  I would have been begging for a rope – the sun was beating down on the glacier and both Alan and I felt the edges of narrow crevasses crumbling beneath our feet as we leapt over them.  I guess she survived her crazy stroll, as there were no reports in the local news of any accidents.

We made it to the Hohen Sass station at about 10.45am, and sat down for a celebratory beer.  Now we were real alpinists!

Stumble it!

My father, Trevor Jones, was born in 1920 in Mid Wales, and served in the King’s Royal Rifle Corps from 1941 until the end of the second world war. He died  12 years ago.

I had known for years about the existence of a collection of letters written by my father in 1943 to his sister Nancy, but it was only recently that I actually got hold of them. I have been scanning them as carefully as I can, then putting them back into storage.

Here’s one written in May 1943, the day after the end of hostilities in North Africa:

Dear Nancy, Gwilym and Wendy,

I am very sorry I have been so long in writing, but I haven’t had much chance until now.

Yesterday was a very eventful day for it was the day upon which the ceasefire sounded in Africa and believe me everyone was glad.  The day before the Germans decided that they didn’t want their guns or ammunition any longer so they decided we should have them and they first of all slung over all the shells they had left and then they threw the guns, at least it sounded like, but I was well down in my hole and didn’t get in their way, as some unlucky ones did.

Well its all over now and we have had a very nice quiet day today, with plenty of sleep after the celebrations had finished.

All we are bothered with now out here are they flies which are equipped with needles to stick in legs, arms and bare backs, still I can put up with anything now that we don’t have any shells coming over.

I haven’t had your photographs yet but I expect they will arrive in due course.

So Wendy is beginning to assert herself now, she’ll soon be walking and talking.  I expect you were both thrilled when she first said mama weren’t you? Are you going to teach her to speak Welsh or will English be enough for her?

I haven’t heard from Tom [his brother, who also survived the war] for a long time now, I suppose he’s alright, have you heard from him recently?

At present we are all speculating about our future moves, everybody hopes we will be going home but doesn’t bank too much on it as we are getting used to disappointments like that we have heard too many rumours which proved unfounded to take much notice of anything until we actually move.  Still we have a small chance of getting home but I’m afraid it is very small until the war is completely finished which I hope will be very very soon now.  I know that all the Germans we took around here were extremely glad that it was all over for them.

That’s all for now, I hope next time I shall have managed to get a pen, as it is very bad writing in pencil but better than not writing at all.  Cheerio for the present keep my bed aired as I’ll be needing it any moment now

Best love,

Trevor

Stumble it!