As part of our commemorations of the 75th anniversary of VE Day, LESLIE DAVIES tells us the story of Newport-born soldier Islwyn Davies

LIEUTENANT William Islwyn Davies leapt ashore onto the Normandy beach from one of 4,000 landing craft as part of the greatest invasion fleet ever seen on the morning of D-Day – June 6, 1944 – amid the deadly sound of machine gun fire to begin the biggest adventure of his life.

He was surrounded by death as the landing craft on his right struck a mine with devastating consequences and the one on his left was hit by shellfire.

Going into action for the first time he led his Reconnaissance troop in a hectic dash through the sand, dodging bullets and shells hurled at the invaders. Moving cautiously through a narrow gap in a minefield cleared by Royal Engineers, his men then faced a hail of bullets from enemy guns hitting the column from one end to the other, causing many casualties.

South Wales Argus:

William Islwyn Davies, pictured in 1945, aged 29

After four weeks of fierce fighting against tough German opposition, Allied troops secured a foothold on enemy occupied France, but not before the Division suffered 14,000 killed, wounded or missing.

Reflecting on the ordeal he later admitted his philosophy had been to call a miss “a bit of luck”.

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As the son of a First World War officer, Sandhurst-trained Islwyn - who went by his middle name - earned the respect of his company, combining a keen sense of duty with an emotional commitment as a reconnaissance troop leader with Geordies in the Royal Northumberland Fusiliers.

Early in August he received orders to capture a bridge in the village of Burcy to deny German access.

The advance on the bridge was met with small arms fire as he quickly discovered a German Para Group had the same idea.

He pulled back to defend the bridge amid artillery fire and in the battle which followed when half his men were either killed or wounded the bridge remained secure. This was the moment when his luck finally ran out.

Islwyn was wounded in the right arm.

Only later did it emerge that the artillery bombardment came from misdirected Allied guns.

After treatment at a Canadian casualty station he returned to the UK for surgery on route to either Woolaston House, Newport, or Queen Elizabeth Hospital, Birmingham. As he ruefully remembers: “Sod’s law ruled that the day I arrived the train went to Birmingham.”

The brutal killing fields of northern France had been an indelible contrast with the tranquil days in Cornwall Road and Christchurch Road, Newport, where he was born on April 15, 1916.

On leaving Stow Hill Grammar School he learned to drive with Santons Electrical firm, then became a telegraphist at the Newport Telephone Exchange, both of which were to prove assets when getting his call-up papers in January 1940, having married six days after war was declared.

Following a brief but memorable spot of unauthorised leave to see his wife Elsie Mary and family, he returned to the front line to continue scouting patrols probing the enemy’s combat strength.

Moving through Holland and over the notorious Arnhem Bridge and on towards the Rhine, his troop encountered fierce resistance from stubborn German forces determined to defend the Fatherland at all costs. Four armoured cars were knocked out of action as his troop approached the Seigried Line and the troop lost several men while clearing farms overlooking German defences.

There was some consolation in the fact that they took more than 90 prisoners.

South Wales Argus:

William Islwyn Davies, pictured in 1970

Once over the Rhine, the advance party then headed for Munster, but half way there met heavy armour at the town of Aplehusen.

On the second day of the attack they encountered a “dug in” Tiger tank. When a shell whistled past his vehicle he withdrew to the comparative shelter of a farmhouse wall barely 400 yards from the target, hoping to call for artillery help when, by an incredible stroke of good fortune, a young subaltern from the 6th Royal Artillery suddenly appeared.

While the Tiger was still firing, the gunners retaliated with a flat trajectory, whipping up clouds of dust from the ploughed field and the Tiger disappeared in smoke and flame. Later that day the Colonel, clearly impressed by the initiative shown, approached and said: “By the way, Lyn, you are a Captain as of now.”

Making their way south, they passed some elegant looking barracks ideal for a rest, when one of the gunners took aim at the front gates. “I was just knocking those two German eagles off the pillars,” he said. And those were the last shots fired in anger.

Once the relentless struggle to free Europe from the grip of Nazi tyranny was over, Islwyn exchanged his uniform for a tweed suit and, with a more nuanced understanding of human nature, his deep-rooted instinct for the welfare of people became paramount, leading him to embark on an eventful career in the prison service, which was to last 30 years.

Politely sidestepping a quip that he should be psychoanalysed, he began duty as an assistant governor at Portland Borstal, then Feltham, followed by promotions to Durham, Bela Open Prison in the Lake District and, in June 1960, to Swansea as the first governor in living memory to be Welsh.

He had joined the service when the prison population had more than doubled, but, with an enterprising spirit, became immersed in challenging situations, which he deftly turned into opportunities to modernise Victorian buildings and creating a new hospital and kitchen facilities.

Amid the daily round of coping with lawbreakers in disciplined fashion there were occasions when a compassionate side of his nature enabled some prisoners to achieve their potential through improving skills and equipping them with a sense of purpose once the prison doors opened to freedom.

Even in a busy schedule Islwyn made time for study to gain a Diploma in Criminology from the University of London.

He was promoted again to Chelmsford, where he was responsible for the custody of the infamous Train Robbers. It was here that he earned praise from the home secretary for quelling an attempted escape by 12 violent prisoners, which only ended when he climbed on to the roof to confront the few who had decided to continue their protest all night if necessary.

Graphic details of this encounter are given in his memoires, Time Spent, which begins with a frank admission of emotional scenes that tore asunder two previously close families, followed by episodes which paint a vivid portrait of family life with his wartime bride and their sons Peter, and twins John and Hugh.

South Wales Argus:

William Islwyn Davies, meeting the Duke of Edinburgh.

The candour and humour read like a glimpse into a personal diary reflecting the conflicting demands of duty and family.

After further promotion to Strangeways came his appointment as Inspector of Prisons and on to a new rank as Director of Prisons for Northern Ireland, where the highly sensitive area of IRA prisoners was dealt with by effective planning and control of paramilitary groups in the notorious Maze Prison.

His retirement in 1977 completing 40 years’ service to the Crown was honoured by the award of the Queen’s Jubilee Medal. Even in retirement an unquenchable desire to serve the community was undiminished as he took on the role as treasurer of a childrens’ home in Caerleon, and then chairmanship of the Cheshire Home at Llanhenock.

He died on Nov 7, 2003, aged 87, as a man so well-respected he was elected chairman of the Prison and Borstal Governors Representative Organisation from 1969-72.

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Throughout his career Islwyn was inspired by a simple philosophy which was to be his guiding principle: “One of the greatest lessons of my life,” he said, “has been the military dictum time spent on reconnaissance is seldom wasted.”

His sons were always a little in awe of their father but as Dr John Davies, who lives in the family home in Llantrisant, near Usk, says: ”Not only was he physically strong and a competent amateur boxer, he had the gift of the gab and could chastise any wrongdoing with withering eloquence.

“Despite this, he was normally very gentle and understanding, urged us to do well at school, but never dictated or even suggested the paths we should take in life.”

John became an entomologist and spent most of his career in the tropics on large scale tsetse fly and mosquito control projects, Peter worked all his life at GCHQ in Cheltenham and Hugh had a long career in the Metropolitan Police.

Time Spent, by William Islwyn Davies is available online.