Farmer’s son Peter Wright, better known as ‘Misty’ Wright to the men of the Coldstream Guards, earned a unique Victoria Cross during the second world war – after the intervention of King George VI.
Before his death in 1990, Wright, who was born in Mettingham and lived and farmed at Kirstead and Blythburgh before settling at Helmingham in Suffolk, gave Steve Snelling a graphic account of the action at Salerno in Italy for which he was honoured.
What follows is his vivid version of the battle fought on September 25, 1943 ...

We were told we would capture the hill. There was no could be about it. Those were our orders and we attacked more or less at midday, in broad daylight. It was very hot, very humid. We knew the enemy were dug in, because a battalion had been driven back and thrown off the hill. So we knew it was going to be the toughest of jobs.

They put a barrage down before we went in, and then it eased off a bit. Everywhere seemed very quiet as we moved into a valley. We were going to attack on a two company front and we were the right- hand company. As we were moving along the floor of the valley we could hear a church bell softly chiming the hours. But, just as we were getting into position to attack, they opened up on us and all hell broke loose.

An artist’s impression of the action at Salerno in Italy in 1943.

They put down a mortar barrage and the undergrowth in the valley caught alight.I was with the stretcher bearers going up the hill. One of the first casualties we found was our company commander who was covered in wounds from head to toe. He told me, ‘Get up front, see what’s happening and take command if the officers are all killed’.

This was all within a quarter of an hour of starting out.The next man I saw was Lt Jory. He was lying dead where he’d dropped. There were a lot of wounded and I got the stretcher bearers to get them out quick because the undergrowth was alight. I then went to the top of the hill and saw Lt Buxton, who was seriously wounded (he later died of his injuries).

I looked around for a young officer who had only joined us the previous night. By the time I found him, he was dead and we were under machine-gun fire as I set off to find the rest of his platoon.
I moved round the side of the hill and saw how it fell away in terraces like steps. There was a machine-gun on each level and these were the ones that were holding up the advance.

I saw the German steel helmets and just dropped flat. The nearest one was no more than 30yd away. It was a hell of a shock and put the wind up me. But, to be honest, I couldn’t care. I was in a bit of a state. My wife says I must have been mad. I don’t know about that, but I was definitely very angry at seeing us lose all those men, some of them only youngsters.

The machine-guns were dug in and there were about four men in the first post. We weren’t far above them and I had one guardsman near by. I told him we’d got to try to silence it. And after collecting grenades from the dead and some of the others around about, he gave me covering fire while I laid down and lobbed grenades into them, one after the other.

We killed one or two and the rest made a run for it. Then we did the same to the next one. They were firing back at us the whole time. The bullets were zipping past us. Finally, after throwing grenades into the third post, the firing stopped and I shouted, “Lend me that bloody rifle” and charged the last post, just to make sure.We’d killed two or three, wounded a couple and captured about four others, who were scared stiff.

Late in the evening they put in a counter-attack, but it was a very weak one. Just testing us. After a while things calmed down. There was a little bit of mortar fire, but we had more or less wiped out the mortars.
Our main worry was the shortage of ammunition, so two or three men, with me supervising and helping, went back to get some. We managed to bring all the wounded out during the night, but we couldn’t bury the dead until the next day.

We buried them where they lay, and I had to supervise the retrieval of their personal effects and identity discs. It was horrible. Some of them had only joined us a few days before, but I knew the majority of them. We’d trained together… It was disheartening.

I had had a bullet hit me in the back, but it wasn’t anything much. And to be honest, I didn’t think I’d done anything special. That was simply the job we had to do… I think anyone in my place would have done the same. But the lads who gave the information to the officers said I went ‘quietly bloody mad’.

The most common comment made to me was along the lines of: ‘What were trying to do – get yourself killed?’ Back at headquarters, I was told: ‘You did a marvellous job on the hill’, but my view was ‘forget it, think about the poor devils who were killed’.
The truth is, I probably had lost control and, to be honest, I felt I was very lucky…

The celebratory party gets under way at news of the award.

Peter Wright was back in England when it was announced first that he had been awarded the DCM and then that the award had been cancelled – by Royal command – and replaced by the Victoria Cross. He took up the story:

Nobody was more surprised than me. I just couldn’t believe it when the press turned up to interview me. I even went to the CO to check it out, and he said it could be right because they’d heard something like this might be coming through. And after that, we had one big happy party in the sergeants’ mess at Pirbright.

When I went to Buckingham Palace to receive my award, the King explained that he had personally altered it from a DCM.
Looking back, I feel proud to be the holder of the VC, to represent the regiment. I feel it was given for the company as a whole. I couldn’t have done it alone.

I was very lucky. There were times when I didn’t think I’d come through … Times when I wondered if I’d catch a packet. At times like that, I remember thinking what wouldn’t I give to get behind a pint of beer in a village pub.
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