Part 4 (1/2)

16 Feb. 1943 Battery Diary: Battery Diary: ... ...Battery Commander, and Gun Position Officer to El Aroussa via Le Kef to report to C.R.A. 6th Armoured Div. Battery to move to hide west of Gafour Armoured Div. Battery to move to hide west of Gafour.

”Why do they keep hidin' us,” says Chalky. ”I'm not ashamed of being a Gunner.”

We bade farewell to lovely s.h.i.+t-laden Le Kef and set off in our little Khaki Noddy Cars.

A sign 'Dust means death', Shepherd commented. ”Aye, if ye get too much in yer lungs it kills ye,” he says. We pa.s.sed camouflaged ammo dumps, rear Echelon vehicles, tents, bivvys etc. Crossing the road ahead were what would seem like bundles of rags on legs, carrying rifles and gas stoves.

”They're Goums,” said Lt Budden.

”Goons?” I giggled.

”GOUMIERS! French African Troops you illiterate fellow.”

”Personally sir, I think it's the Irish Guards in drag.” The Goums were accompanied by wives, children, chickens, goats, dogs, and what looked like the entire contents of Harrods furniture repository. The Goums were right. We should take our women to war, khaki knickers and all.

”Wake up darling.”

”What is it dear.”

”Those awful Germans want righting dear.”

”Not again. I killed three yesterday.”

”Here's your sandwiches and rifle. Try and not use the bayonet dear, you know what a mess it makes on the carpet.” We were being waved across by a Military Policeman. His trousers had knife-edge creases, even his legs had knife-edge creases. His webbing was blinding white, his bra.s.s-work flashed in the sun like gold bayonets. He saluted Lt Budden. ”Try and go slow, sir, we've had three straffings this morning, it's the dust.”

”You must get a Hoover,” I said to him, and drove on.

”That, Milligan,” said Budden, ”was what I call real real bulls.h.i.+t.” bulls.h.i.+t.”

”Ah! So you can can tell the difference sir.” tell the difference sir.”

I told him an idea to end the war. All you do is drop fifty English char ladies on the Fuhrer's bunker. In one week the Hun would be broken. ”Come on now, I'm not 'avin' all those men in jack boots stompin' on my polished floor. Never mind about silly old Stalingrad, you sit down and I'll bring you a nice cup of tea and a cheese roll for Mr Goering.”

We pa.s.sed Gafour, another dung village, and pulled up on a flat rocky plateau with stunted trees and scrub, but no Porridge.

”Listen sir,” I said, ”gunfire!”

”Yes,” said Lt Budden, ”there's a lot of it about.”

A mile to our left towered the blue grey shape of Djbel Eich Cheid, rising some thousand metres. Moving towards us in a cloud of dust was a flock of goats attended by a small boy, whose sole occupation was to hit them and shout 'Yeaeah'. Growing almost in secrecy were cornflowers. This little flower was the first to bloom in Hiros.h.i.+ma after the holocaust; so much for the power of the Atom. Lurching hither, his hat on sideways was the Great Edgington. He carried yet another mug another mug of tea. How of tea. How did he did he manage to brew up so quick? ”I'll tell you,” he said. ”It's fear.” manage to brew up so quick? ”I'll tell you,” he said. ”It's fear.”

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Hitlergram No. 1560934a Fuhrer: Tea-zat is how ve will break zer Britisher! Tea-zat is how ve will break zer Britisher! MESSERSCHMIDT: MESSERSCHMIDT: A great idea mein Fuhrer. A great idea mein Fuhrer. Fuhrer: Fuhrer: Zer Englanders, zey like make drink tea?-zis is vat I vant you should make, you vill build eine Tank-zis Tank vill inside a bladder have-in zer bladder ve have zer smell of zer NAAFI tea-we sneak zer tank up on zer Tommy Lines, at 4 o'clocken, zer gun barrel, we squirt zer NAAFI tea smell up zere trouser legs. Zer Englanders, zey like make drink tea?-zis is vat I vant you should make, you vill build eine Tank-zis Tank vill inside a bladder have-in zer bladder ve have zer smell of zer NAAFI tea-we sneak zer tank up on zer Tommy Lines, at 4 o'clocken, zer gun barrel, we squirt zer NAAFI tea smell up zere trouser legs. MESSERSCHMIDT: MESSERSCHMIDT: Squirt ze tea Schmell? Squirt ze tea Schmell? HITLER: HITLER: Zen zer Tommy will jump up and run vid zer mug tovords zer tea-schmell-tank. Zen we shoot-bang-fire! Zen zer Tommy will jump up and run vid zer mug tovords zer tea-schmell-tank. Zen we shoot-bang-fire! MESS: MESS: Zis vill finish zer Englanders. Zis vill finish zer Englanders.

We listened to the BBC one o'clock news. Stewart Hibberd was telling us the First Army troops had ”successfully disengaged the enemy,” this meant we'd taken a bas.h.i.+ng. Why not ”British troops confuse enemy by refusing to fight.”

The little shepherd boy stood watching with eyes like huge brown liquid marbles. ”Quelle est votre nom?” I asked.

”Mahomet,” he said.

”Me Spike Milligan,” I said.

I gave him some boiled sweets, it came as a shock when I realised he wasn't quite sure what they were, I had to eat one to show him. We take a lot of things for granted. The afternoon was warm. Some lads, s.h.i.+rts off, basking in the sun, white bodies, eyes closed, what were they thinking? Pint at the Pub? Watching Millwall at the Den? A walk with the Girl on Sunday? See? The lazy sods, that's all they ever think of! Booze, Football and s.e.x.

The afternoon was pa.s.sing very slowly, we threw stones, broke branches off trees, played Pontoon, we played stones, broke Pontoon and threw trees. We walked around. We sat down. We stood up. We smoked. ”Christ if only we had an air raid or measles.” Spike Deans had bought two chickens off an Arab, and for three francs each we could partake of them for din-din! That night we sat dining on roast chicken and drinking the last bottle of wine. We drank and sang I'll be seeing you in all the old familiar places'. In the distance we could hear guns. In the shadows our own guns stood silent in their covers. Soon it would be their turn.

17th Feb. Dawn Yawning, I slipped the Humber into gear. ”Rendezvous Map Reference 68039.” said Lt Budden. ”You holidayed in Cornwall you say?”

The road was difficult. Come to think of it, so was I. It was marked camel track and it took us to El Aroussa, a small wayside railway station, now a smoking ruin. Around it were the blackened skeletons of a dozen or so lorries. Inside shattered buildings were blood spattered walls, blood soaked battle dress jackets and trousers. An old Arab, all that was left of the station staff (”Toute morte”) described how it happened. Stukas had come yesterday, in a few minutes it was all over.

”Christ,” says Bdr Sherwood. ”What's happened?”

”Don't worry, these are only the cheap seats,” I said.

”He must have been a bad driver,” said Chalky White. The humour was a bit forced. None of us were sure what to say. The officers were grouped around a map, and appeared more excited than is good for English gentlemen.

”What are they on?” said Chalky.

”Vitamin B.” I said.

Up the line comes Chater Jack's truck. ”Prepare to move! Lads, Yoiks, Tally Ho!”

We followed him towards Bou Arada. Half a mile on he turned left across the railway lines, down a bank, over a dusty wheat field towards a small farm nestling at the foot of the Djbel Rihane (nicknamed 'Grandstand Hill'). Behind, the great khaki guns rolled like fat babies as they negotiated the bosomy terrain. The silence was broken by the sharp crack of artillery.

”They sound like Mediums,” said Lt Budden.

”Too small sir,” I said. ”I take Outsize.”

Sergeant Dawson raced past on his motorbike; when we arrived at the farm, he was waiting with the Major, soon the area was a ma.s.s of frenetic action.

”Scrim Nelson!”

”Disperse Wireless Trucks under those trees!”

”Monkey trucks prepare to lay ten-mile telephone line!”

”All guns in that Wadi there!”

”Bombardier ? Form OP Party!”

”For G.o.d's sake,” I said, ”There's more orders than men.” Edgington joined in, ”All Gunners stand on one leg and lean eastward.”

The guns were towed into a Wadi. Command Post tent appeared to have been put up by trainee Wolf Cubs. Bren guns were mounted against aircraft. ”Lucky sods,” said White, ”all they got to do is scratch their b.a.l.l.s and look up.”

The 200 lb mustard coloured sh.e.l.ls were being unloaded and stacked. Signallers were lugging communications equipment into the Command Post, specialists were putting up Artillery Boards and all those fiddling instruments that computed which German the sh.e.l.l would hit. Of course they could have put all the names in a hat. A trestle table was erected for the Tannoy Control. Next to it were the telephone and the wireless set. Cables were run to the gun positions, loudspeakers at each sub-section connected and tested. It worked like this. Place loudspeaker near gun, connect wire from Command Post, press b.u.t.ton on top of loudspeaker at Gun Position. Immediately light flashes in Command Post control panel.