Part 9 (1/2)
28 Feb. 1943 My Diary: My Diary: Torrential rain. Wireless trench flooded Torrential rain. Wireless trench flooded.
Contacted Gun Position: Milligan: h.e.l.lo! Tell Sergeant Dawson I need a relief.
Gun Position: Who do you want?
Milligan: Paulette G.o.ddard.
Gun Position: What will be her duties?
Milligan: Me.
The rain! Not only did it come down, it went up 6 feet, and then came down a second time.
”It's good for the crops,” said McArthur.
”I haven't got any,” I said.
”I have. I've got a hundred acres in Somerset and three hundred in Canada.”
”It's not raining there.”
”I know,” he said, pacing up and down, ”and it's very very worrying.”
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B.S.M. McArthur telling a gunner he owns all the mud in Tunisia
MARCH.
Germans launched an offensive called 'Ocksenkopf'.
'Ox Head'. With names like that for a major offensive, they just couldn't have had a sense of humour. 'Ox Head'. With names like that for a major offensive, they just couldn't have had a sense of humour.
It went from 26 February to 5 March. They nearly broke through at Hunt's Gap, but an incredible resistance by 5 Hamps.h.i.+res and 155 Bty R A for over twelve hours (the latter were finally overwhelmed), decimated the Bosch so much-he had to stop.
March 13 1943 Early closing in Lewisham.
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US BULLETIN.
The scene: A highly camouflaged American Ice-cream refrigerator in the battle zone. A phone rings. A highly camouflaged American Ice-cream refrigerator in the battle zone. A phone rings. EISENHOWER: EISENHOWER: Who is that? Who is that? VOICE: VOICE: I'm General Patton, 2 I'm General Patton, 2nd in line to John Wayne... in line to John Wayne... EISENHOWER: EISENHOWER: It's Ike here? We've taken a thras.h.i.+ng from the Germans at Ka.s.serine. It's Ike here? We've taken a thras.h.i.+ng from the Germans at Ka.s.serine. PATTON: PATTON: Germans? I'll put them on the list, but first we get rid of the Limeys! Germans? I'll put them on the list, but first we get rid of the Limeys! EISENHOWER: EISENHOWER: Remember, form the Tanks into a circle-with women and kids in the middle. Remember, form the Tanks into a circle-with women and kids in the middle.
12 March 1943 Q, Bloke, Courtney says: ”We've got to move to a place called 'Beja'.” Soooo, we all start this b.l.o.o.d.y kit packing again. Finally the convoy lined up. BSM McArthur on his motorbike. ”Where's the Rolls?” I said. It was 44 miles to Beja, en route we pa.s.sed a glut of POW's; without fail, we gave them n.a.z.i salutes and morale sapping raspberries. The Germans looked baffled. Was this rabble the Army they were fighting? And what was this strange farting noise they made?
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Goebbels News Flash HITLER: Vat is dis fartung noise zer Britisher are making ? Vat is dis fartung noise zer Britisher are making ? HIMMLER: HIMMLER: Einer Raspberry-speilen. Einer Raspberry-speilen. HITLER: HITLER: Raspberry-speilen?-vat is das? Raspberry-speilen?-vat is das? HIMMLER: HIMMLER: According to our secret agent it is einen fartung noise. According to our secret agent it is einen fartung noise. HITLER: HITLER: How can einen Raspberry make zer fartung noise? How can einen Raspberry make zer fartung noise? HIMMLER: HIMMLER: It is einen mystery? It is einen mystery? HITLER: HITLER: Zat is not good enough! We must form Einer Raspberry-speil Panzer Unit. We will show zem who is Zat is not good enough! We must form Einer Raspberry-speil Panzer Unit. We will show zem who is master master of zer Fartung noise. of zer Fartung noise.[image]
Gunner Milligan showing his unflagging belief in his King and Country
A mile outside Beja, on the verge of a tree lined dusty road, we parked our vehicles, draped scrim nets over them. Flanking us were fields of ripening corn that rittle-rattled in the afternoon breeze. The afternoon was good drying weather; I had to wash my denims and battle-dress trousers because they pleaded with me to. I hung them to dry, and repaired in my s.h.i.+rt and socks to sleep in Kidgell's lorry. I awoke to find the lorry a mile away at an Ordnance Depot about to be loaded with blankets. I was hoiked out of the back accompanied by wolf whistles from soldiers.
An RSM spotted me. ”Oi! Yew Yew, 'ere, and double!” It was a rare sight, me running across a busy square. I came to an uncla.s.sic attention.
”Wot the b.l.o.o.d.y 'ell you think you're doing?”
”It was an accident sir.”
”What kind of accident?”
”Dysentery sir-I'm excused trousers during an attack.”
”If the Arabs sees you they'll think we're all b.l.o.o.d.y queer.” He took me to the Quarter Master's Store. ”Fix this nudist up with trousers.”
Kidgell was bent double with laughter as we drove back. ”You swine, Kidgell, I hope on your honeymoon your cobblers catch fire and roll down the bed.”
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The roads were alive with reinforcements. A squadron of Churchills all spanking new were trundling towards the front-their gear stowed immaculately, Divisional signs freshly painted. Along the Beja-Oued Zaga Road we travelled, the sun was s.h.i.+ning, the land was green, we didn't have a care in the world, was there really really a war on ? a war on ?
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We sang songs, those nostalgic slushy moon-June love songs that had f.u.c.ked-up my generation. I was brought up to believe that the answer to all problems was a red-rouged-moist-lipped Alice Faye romance. I wasn't in a war really, I was, Robert Taylor in 'Waterloo Bridge'-and Louise of Bexhill was Vivien Leigh. Life was a series of weak-joked c.r.a.ppy dialogues one could hear in any Hollywood film from 1935 to 1945. If I made a wisecrack I was Lee Tracey, if I sang a song I was Bing Crosby, if I played trumpet, Louis Armstrong if I kissed a girl, Clarke Gable, if I was in a fight, James Cagney-but who was I when was.h.i.+ng out my socks? Hollywood didn't recognise reality-the escapism was almost evil, yet, I was was looking for the happy ending, with Judy Garland and Mickey Rooney marching triumphantly and singing 'They call us Babes in Arms'. It never happened. It never will, Hollywood sold us short. My generation have suffered withdrawal symptoms ever since. But here we were singing gaily. It was ridiculous! A thin soldier, in outsize denim trousers held up with string singing 'You stepped out of a dream'. Doug had a new trick, on the first beat of the bar he'd hit the accelerator-and the lorry would lurch forward. looking for the happy ending, with Judy Garland and Mickey Rooney marching triumphantly and singing 'They call us Babes in Arms'. It never happened. It never will, Hollywood sold us short. My generation have suffered withdrawal symptoms ever since. But here we were singing gaily. It was ridiculous! A thin soldier, in outsize denim trousers held up with string singing 'You stepped out of a dream'. Doug had a new trick, on the first beat of the bar he'd hit the accelerator-and the lorry would lurch forward.
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March 13th The mail had arrived. Everyone went mad!
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I had one from Mum and Dad, one from Lily, and Ohhh ArGGGGHHHHHHH! Three from Louise of Bexhill. AHGGGHHHHHHHHHH. Help! I'm going blind. My father had rejoined the Army as a Captain in the RAOC. He was over fifty, but using glazier's putty, and blacking his bald head with boot polish, looked forty-nine. My brother Desmond was working as a runner-c.u.m-slave to a press photographers in Fleet Street, and was in the middle of all the fire raids and frequently came home smoke blackened, but whistling cheerfully. This caused mother to worry. She got Doctor O'Brien to prescribe whisky to ”relax her.” Every evening she would open the front window, sip whisky, and listen for Desmond's whistling. By the time he arrived mother was so relaxed she was stretched out in the pa.s.sage.