A fine Second World War North-West Europe operations M.C. group of four awarded to Lieutenant C. Shone, ‘B’ Squadron, 141 Royal Armoured Corps (The Buffs), better known as the “Playboys”, who was decorated for his gallantry in command of a Crocodile flame-thrower tank at Breberen in January 1945 - in which action he was wounded

Military Cross, G.VI.R., the reverse officially dated ‘1945’; 1939-45 Star; France and Germany Star; War Medal 1939-45, together with a Shrewsbury Round Table Past Chairman’s Badge, gilt and enamel, the reverse inscribed, ‘Cliff Shone, 1954’, extremely fine (5) £800-1000

M.C. London Gazette 19 April 1945. The original recommendation states:

‘On 19 January 1945, Lieutenant Shone was in command of a troop of crocodile tanks which were supporting the 6th Battalion, Cameronians, on to the village of Breberen. Having subdued enemy resistance in the southern part of the village, he encountered a road-block which blocked further progress. He at once proceeded to attack the enemy in the rear from the northern end of the village, thus enabling the infantry to get forward again.

During this action severe enemy mortaring was experienced which wounded several infantrymen who were lying in the path of his tanks. Showing complete disregard for his own safety, Lieutenant Shone dismounted from his tank, dressed their wounds, and removed them to safety, all under intense mortar fire, and despite being wounded himself.
By his magnificent all-round handling of the situation, Lieutenant Shone was not only responsible for saving many lives, but also was largely responsible for putting the infantry on to their objective and capturing the village of Breberen.’

Clifford Shone joined ‘B’ Squadron, 141 R.A.C. (The Buffs) in August 1944, and quickly saw action as C.O. of No. 6 Troop in support of the 29th U.S Infantry Division in the battle for Brest - indeed his subsequent part in the campaign in North-West Europe is the subject of frequent mention in the unit’s history, The Playboys, a copy of which included:

‘Cliff never stopped laughing at life. Whether his tank brewed or whether he’d had the most God-awful blind the night before he’d still come out smiling. Bags of common sense too. He would go on drinking and arguing until he fell asleep. And without exception his first question would be “where’s my tuth?” God knows in what queer places we found the solitary tooth - anywhere from a ship’s lavatory to a forest clearing, but find it we always did - had to, or the show couldn’t go on. Peter and Cliff were as thick as thieves - and the combination approximated to a hurricane.’

The “Playboys” were equipped with one of Major-General Sir Percy Hobart’s modified tanks - or “Funnies” as they came to be known - namely the Churchill Crocodile flame-thrower tank, which carried 400 gallons of fuel in a carrier, enough for 80 one-second bursts at a range of about 80-100 yards. And this specialist capability was duly employed in support of the 29th U.S. Infantry Division for the assault on Fort Montbarey in September 1944, where Shone commanded 6 Troop:

‘The troop emptied its trailers in the moat and across the other side in one glorious conflagration of flame and smoke. Then from a shelter in the moat emerged “Hermann the German”. Dallas sent him back into the fort to demand its surrender at the pistol point. But that modernised mediaeval fort was just as tough as ever. Out came “Hermann the German” to tell Dallas that the commandant's orders were to remain there and fight to the bitter end - and unless they produced a damn sight more flame and destruction so he would. You know the idea, “C'est dommage mais - nous sommes soldats”. There could of course be only one reaction. “He wants it, well we've got it”. Terry came in with 10 Troop and used up the whole of his H.E. and flame in one mad outburst, quickly replaced by Cliff [Shone] with 6 Troop who piled in just as heavy. At the same time all available fire power, infantry mortars, phosphorus shells and heavy weapons crashed down. Two 105mm. close-support howitzers lined up into action against the gate itself, Roy pounding away with them. The outhouses were now a blazing inferno and a truly Walt Disney nightmare of flame, smoke, flying metal, sound and fury. Gradually the weight shifted its point of impact as a task force of infantry jumped into the moat and placed charges against the wall. The little force returned and blew the charges. Straightway into the hole charged the infantry covered by an absolute crescendo of flame, 75s, Besa and smoke. Cliff was even using up his hand smoke grenades. Straight through the outhouses, capturing en route 30 P.O.Ws too asphyxiated by the flame and smoke to surrender. A sharp spell of hand-to-hand fighting and the show was over, the remainder of the garrison left alive surrendering - 78 O.Rs, 3 officers, a W.O. and an officer cadet.’

The “Playboys” were next in action in the Scheldt Pocket, Shone ‘blazing the trail for the infantry’ at Heyst in October, following which he assumed command of No. 9 Troop, and by December he and his men were on the German border. Here, then, the eve of his M.C.-winning exploits at Berberen, an action described in detail in the unit’s history:
‘This Recce Group had assembled in full view at the road junction at 758723 just N.E. of Saeffelen - which asked for it and got it.  A colossal mortar stonk came down, wounding several, amongst whom were the infantry C.O. and Cliff's [Shone’s] Company Commander. With about two minutes to go to the 25 pounder concentration Cliff thus found himself amongst a bevy of subalterns with no plan yet made and debating as to which one should take over the company. Cliff became fatherly. “Look here, I'm going to flame the western edge and the southern approach, then you go in. I'll meet you in there and see if there's any more trouble.” And off they went.

The Sherman stood off and blazed away at both villages while 8 and 9 Troops lumbered off over the snow, firing as they went. On the right Cliff's show went with a bang. Terry Conway was a Croc commander that day and went in with Sergeant Decent, burning and smashing the houses on the west. Cliff shot in Sergeant Huxtable as he made a tidy mess at the southern end - then dismounted in all the confusion of flame and smoke to sort out the position. Prisoners were coming out now and Jerry was pouring mortars and shells into the place and all round it. Cliff ran the Platoon Commander to earth and agreed to lead the platoon up the street in his own Croc, flaming all the way. And so he did for about 300 yards until he reached a road block. Fortunately there was a turning left here and after another tete-a-tete with the Platoon Commander Cliff cut off here to go round the village and come in again from the north. In doing so Cliff met up with another platoon commanded by a Corporal going in the same way. He dismounted again and took the Corporal down to the village square, where a runner contacted him and asked for help on the houses to the east. By now the whole village was on fire and the troop had used up all its fuel but still had plenty of ammunition left. Cliff therefore ran back through the burning village to his tank just in time to see a mortar kill five and smash up four more of the infantry clustered round it. It took quite a time getting them from under the tracks. The crew bandaged them up with all their shell dressings and put them into a nearby house. Just then Nigel came up and Cliff ran over to give him the dope. He was stood just by the horn of Standard when some particularly vicious brand of high velocity H.E. cracked in and hit the pannier door, caving it right in and sending Cliff for a six in a cloud of smoke. Cliff picked himself up and got on with the job of giving fire support on the houses to the N.E. until the whole place was cleared.’

A few days later, on 23 January, in an attack on Aphoven, Shone received more serious wounds that necessitated his evacuation to hospital. The Playboys takes up the story:
‘So at the duly appointed 1300 hours Cliff Shone cracked out of Laffeld followed only by those two old faithfuls, Sergeant Decent and Sergeant Huxtable. But he found it impossible to get off the road. Slipping and sliding he led his troop and the infantry straight down it. The infantry were being murdered by mortars as Cliff flamed and blazed away, getting them into the first bit of the village. He couldn't see any place for the Shermans to pass as planned so just carried on up the long street, flaming and shooting and shepherding his little flock of infantry along. One of the spandaus he saw too late. Just as its chattering flash from a shop window caught his eye his Croc overshot the mark. But in seconds he had Sergeant Decent on to it - Trooper Hartland had it taped and just engulfed the shop and all the guys inside with roaring flame. After about 500 yards the road broadened and Cliff now pulled in to let the Shermans by. Turned round - no Shermans. The infantry went on whilst he waited but soon stopped, held up by machine-guns around the next bend. Cliff gave up hope of the Shermans and decided to settle the matter himself. All hell was dropping on the village and as he crooned down the mike “O.K. Snash, advance”, a large portion of it landed on the engine decks, blowing off the petrol caps and brewing-up the tank. Some of it went off in a diversionary raid to the back of Cliff's head and did it a power of no good. Cliff baled out his crew and collected them in a cellar, then went and saw Sergeant Decent, telling him to pass his own Croc and do the necessary. As Sergeant Decent moved off, however, he got in one hell of a tangle with a telegraph pole and its attendant cables - his hair got redder and his cursing got hotter but it was no good. There was nothing for it but to get down to a long job with a hefty pair of wire-cutters. Nor on this ice could Sergeant Huxtable get his great lumbering Croc past Sergeant Decent. Cliff was now in a dilemma. If he kept his crew in the cellar the next company would be clearing and probably send down a grenade for them to share amongst them, if he kept them on the stairs they'd be shot at sight and if he kept them in the street they'd probably take a packet from mortars. But Sergeant Decent's immobility and the infantry's plight decided the issue. Leaving Staples and Snashall in Sergeant Decent's tank he ran and ducked with Fisher and Hudson right through the blazing village to find the Shermans. He found them still at the entrance, told the Troop Commander the whole position. Then relaxed into a R.A.P. from where he was evacuated to hospital. This was the end of “Blackcock” for Cliff. And not before time. He well deserved the M.C. that he got.’

Shone rejoined his unit a few weeks later and remained actively employed until the War’s end; sold with the recipient’s original Buckingham Palace forwarding letter for the M.C., in the name of ‘Lieutenant C. Shone, M.C., Royal Armoured Corps’, his National Service (Armed Forces) Acts Grade Card, a wartime portrait photograph, and a copy of the unit history, Playboys.