Of all the weapons used by British ground forces during the Second World War, nothing matched the 25-pounder field gun, for holding back enemy forces and protecting the infantry. And few people knew more about the gun than Albert Figg, who lived at Rough Common, near Canterbury, when I met him.

“The 25-pdr was the fastest artillery piece ever,” he said. “You could easily fire three shells a minute, and when things hotted up, we sometimes got six. Jerry couldn’t believe it. He thought we had an automatic field gun.

“When Operation Jupiter started, to capture Hill 112, our regiment fired 60,000 shells onto that hill out of 24 guns. There were 72 guns in the division. The battle lasted about 18 days, and I reckon about 1,000 tons of high explosive were going onto that hill every day.”

Albert was an apprentice gardener on an estate near Swindon, Wiltshire, when war was declared in 1939. He had already joined the Territorial Army. A maid from the house where he worked came out an called: “Albert, you’ve got to report to the drill hall immediately.” He nipped home for his uniform and cycled there in record time.

“We slept at the Goddard Arms pub on coconut matting with no blankets,” he said. “When we went on guard, we had broom handles, because there were no rifles. The only artillery pieces were two guns from the First World War. There was nothing to tow them with, so we had to hire flatbed trucks.”

Eventually equipment began to arrive. Albert’s regiment trained at various places around England, ending up at Sandwich, Kent, because it was believed Hitler was going to invade. “I was made up to Sergeant, even though I was only 24,” he said. “I had three chaps over 40 on my team.”

In October 1943 the regiment moved north to York where there was a massive pre-invasion exercise. After that they moved all the way down to Eastbourne and  waterproofed the guns. “We knew something was up,” said Albert.

“On June 12 we moved to Tilbury Docks and went under canvas while the guns were loaded onto a ship. When it came to loading the ammunition, the dockers went on strike demanding danger money. If they’d gone where we were going, they’d have met with real danger. The government stepped in because strikes were illegal during wartime.”

Off Sword Beach, the guns were lowered into landing craft and men scrambled down nets. It wasn’t just guns, but quads, the motor vehicles that towed them, and limbers, which carried the ammunition, as well.  The landing craft were operated by Americans, and before they got underway a burly Marine came round and said to Albert: “Hey Sarge, what kind of ice-cream would you like?” Plates full of vanilla ice-cream duly arrived.”

“Being the No.1, I had to lead our gun off, walking ahead of it,” said Albert. “This was in case there were any underwater craters, or mines, which might damage it. It didn’t matter if you got blown up. You were disposable. The guns were more important. Fortunately the water was only a couple of inches deep when I disembarked.”

By this time the fighting had moved inland 10 miles so there was no resistance. The regiment moved up towards Bayeux, and into a field where they removed the waterproofing. The next day they went into action behind the Bayeux Railway Station.

“One thing that sticks in my mind, was the 1,000  bomber raid that took place around that time,” he said. “The aircraft were flying quite low. You could see the bomb doors open, and the bombs come out. We thought they might land on us, so we just put our hands over our ears and hoped for the best. But of course, bombs go with the flight of the plane, so they landed some way ahead of us.

“Another memory is of when I went down to the latrines. It was just a trench with a pole across it, surrounded by canvas. You sat on the pole and did what you had to. I was quite happy there, being away from the guns. Suddenly there was a screeching noise and a terrific explosion about 200 yards behind me. Then another a bit closer, and then a third. I was being fired at with moaning minnies, German mortars than made a strange noise.

“I ran back to the guns with my trousers round my ankles. One of the gunners said: ‘Hey Sarge, if we can’t hit ‘em, fire up from your end.

“Another time I was in danger was at the start of Operation Epsom when we went into action on the edge of a corn field. I was looking around when suddenly there was a whistling sound close to my head. Then another. When it happened a third time, one of my gunners shouted: ‘Get down Sarge for Christ’s sake, there’s a bloody sniper after you.’ This bullet had whistled past inches from my right ear.

“Another dangerous moment came when we were on the border of Belgium and Holland. We had moved into a gun position, and Jerry bombed us, machine gunned us and Christ knows what else. Quite a few men were wounded.

“We had been waiting for the paras to land at Arnhem. I saw them coming down about three miles ahead of us. I have never seen such a sight in all my life. There were hundreds of them.”

“We stopped by a church close to the bridge,” he said. “While we were waiting there was a commotion, and we thought Jerry had broken through. I got my Sten gun ready. Then there was a lot of shouting: ‘Deutsche kaput, Deutsche kaput’. A horse and cart was coming towards me. Sitting on it, was a Dutchman who was doing all the shouting.

Albert’s regiment was among the forces which took part in Operation Market Garden, designed to capture the Arnhem bridge. They didn’t get that far, but reached the one at Nijmegen, following the Guards Armoured Division. At that stage they were able to cross the bridge.

“The wagon was full of dead Germans. They went into the graveyard where a big pit had been dug. The cart was backed up, a bolt was pulled, and the bodies were all tipped into the trench. Then they chucked a lot of white quicklime over them.

“I finished up in action less than 1,000 yards from the banks of the Rhine on the Dutch side. Our brigade was helping to bring the paras, who took part in the Arnhem raid, back. We started firing at about 11 o’clock one night. It rained all the time.

“Next morning the paras came back past my gun. We had been firing a box barrage across the Rhine, holding the Germans back and giving our boys space to come through. They sat on the riverbank with a cup of tea which arrived from somewhere. Then someone called out an order, and they all sprang to attention as if they were on parade and marched down the road. You couldn’t help admiring then.

“My war ended outside Bremerhaven. I hadn’t even realised that Hitler was dead, and the end was near. It was the first time I had been in a position where civilians came out waving white flags and greeting us.

“After that I was sent to Cyprus guarding prisoners.”