No.3 Army Commando | A Personal Discovery!
As many of you may already know, I am currently writing a book on No. 3 Army Commandos and their wartime exploits, with a particular focus on uncovering their actions during Operation Husky, the Allied invasion of Sicily in July 1943. My interest in this subject is also personal, as my maternal grandfather, Michael Cassidy, served with this unit during the Second World War.
As many historians and authors know all too well, writer’s block is very real. I’ve been dealing with a particularly stubborn case of it while trying to put together this article on some interesting items I uncovered during a house clearance of my late grandmother’s belongings over the winter and into the first few months of 2026. I’m glad to say that chapter is now well and truly complete.
My grandfather was an elusive man who rarely spoke about his wartime experiences, much like many of his comrades and their families across the country. I had always hoped he might have kept some of his uniforms or equipment, or perhaps even a diary that could answer the many questions I now spend countless hours researching. But life is rarely that accommodating, is it? I suppose many of us are gluttons for punishment.
Whilst tackling the untamed mountain that was the garage—packed with everything and anything—I was pleasantly surprised to catch a glimpse of something that hinted at khaki drill and 1937 Pattern webbing. Could it be? I had, without realising it, turned into a magpie—not drawn to anything shiny, but instead to that unmistakable dull green of army kit.
As I dug further, I uncovered an army-issued footlocker, the initials “M.F.C.” embossed into the lid. At that moment, I knew something special was waiting on the other side. And I wasn’t disappointed. Inside was a remarkable collection: a well-preserved commando-issued bergen, a small pack, an entrenching tool, personal effects, and various smaller items he would have carried during his night-time operations in Sicily, France, and Germany.
Being this close to his personal and issued items was quite something. I had always assumed everything would have been handed back when the Commandos were demobilised in 1945, and as I never had the opportunity to meet him, the experience felt especially surreal.
Introduced in 1941, the bergen was designed for troops who needed to carry more equipment than standard infantry, for whom a small pack would usually suffice, with larger packs transported behind the advancing army and collected when required. Specialised units such as the Army Commandos, however, did not always have the luxury of mechanised transport.
The bergen was supported at the rear by a metal frame, sitting close to the body and helping to distribute weight more evenly around the waist. This particular example in my collection is dated 1941 and utilises a heavier-duty khaki material compared to the later iterations introduced from 1943 onwards.
On the main section of the bergen, my grandfather had written his service number, his rank, and the unit “3 Commando,” with the initials “M.C.” marked beneath. Also found within the bergen was a shaving mirror, personalised with his rank and unit.
The elusive diaries, however, remain missing—though perhaps one day they too will come to light.
