Part 1 (1/2)
Mussolini.
His Part In My Downfall.
by Spike Milligan.
1978.
Clive James, in a review of one of mywar books, quoted it as 'an unreliable history of the war'. Well, this makes him a thoroughly unreliable critic, because I spend more time on getting my dates and facts right than I did in actually writing. I admit the way I present it may seem as though my type of war was impossible and all a figment of a hyper-thyroid imagination, but that's the way I write. But all that I wrote did did happen, it happened on the days I mention, the people I mention are real people and the places are real. So I wish the reader to know that he is not reading a tissue of lies and fancies, it all happen, it happened on the days I mention, the people I mention are real people and the places are real. So I wish the reader to know that he is not reading a tissue of lies and fancies, it all really happened really happened. I even got down to actually finding out what the weather was like, for every day of the campaign. I've spent a fortune on beer and dinners interviewing my old Battery mates, and phone calls to those members overseas ran into over a hundred pounds. Likewise I included a large number of photographs actually taken in situ in situ, don't tell me I faked them all, so no more 'unreliable history of the war' chat.
I want to thank the following for their help with doc.u.ments, photographs, maps, recollections which are included in this volume: Major J. Leaman, Lt. S. Pride, Lt. C. Budden, B.S.M. L. Griffin, Sgt. F. Donaldson, the late Bombardier Edwards, Bombardier H. Holmwood, Bombardier S. Price, Bombardier A. Edser, Bombardier S. Kemp, L/Bdr. A. Fildes, Gunner 'Jam-Jar' Griffin, Bombardier D. Sloggit, L/Bdr. R. Bennett, Gunner J. Shapiro, Gunner H. Edgington, Gunner 'Dipper' Dye, Driver D. Kidgell, The War Museum Picture Library, Mrs Thelma Hunt, Mrs P. Hurren, all of whom have helped to give you this 'unreliable history of the war'.
This volume ends up on a sad note, even for a born joker like me: the conflict caught up with me and I was invalided out of it. However, the rest of the book tells of what an unusual mob we were and have been ever since. The closeness of those years still exists in as much as we have two reunions a year, something no other British Army unit have. This book is a dedication to the spirit and friends.h.i.+p of 'D' Battery, 56th Heavy Regiment, Royal Artillery. Heavy Regiment, Royal Artillery.
S. M.
Bayswater March 1978 Salerno
THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 23, 1943.
MY DIARY: MY DIARY: STILL AT WAR! EARLY CLOSING IN CATFORD. READ LETTER FROM MOTHER SAYING CHIESMANS OF LEWISHAM ARE SO SHORT OF STOCK, THE MANAGER AND STAFF SIT IN THE SHOP MIMING THE WORDS 'SOLD OUT'. STILL AT WAR! EARLY CLOSING IN CATFORD. READ LETTER FROM MOTHER SAYING CHIESMANS OF LEWISHAM ARE SO SHORT OF STOCK, THE MANAGER AND STAFF SIT IN THE SHOP MIMING THE WORDS 'SOLD OUT'.
Dear Reader, the beds in the Dorchester Hotel are the most comfortable in England. Alas! neither Driver Kidgell nor Lance-Bombardier Milligan are in a bed at the Dorchester-no! they are trying to sleep on a 10-ton Scammell lorry, parked on the top deck of 4,000-ton HMS Boxer Boxer, inside whose innards are packed 19 Battery, 56th Heavy Regiment, all steaming in the hold; from below comes the merry sound of men retching and it's all from Gunner Edgington. We are bound for Sunny Salerno. For thirteen days since the 5 Heavy Regiment, all steaming in the hold; from below comes the merry sound of men retching and it's all from Gunner Edgington. We are bound for Sunny Salerno. For thirteen days since the 5th Army landing, a ferocious battle had ensued on the beach-head. Even as we rode the waves we knew not what to expect when our turn came. The dawn comes up like Thinder. Army landing, a ferocious battle had ensued on the beach-head. Even as we rode the waves we knew not what to expect when our turn came. The dawn comes up like Thinder. Thinder? Thinder? Yes, that's Thin Thunder. ”Shhhhhh,” we all shout. The chill morning air touches the khaki somnam-bulists sleeping heroically for their King and Country. We are awakened by Gunner Woods in the driving cab, who has fallen asleep on the motor horn. A puzzled s.h.i.+p's Captain is wondering why he can hear the sound of a lorry at sea. Kidgell gives a great jaw-cracking yawn and that's him finished for the day. He stretches himself but doesn't get any longer. Deep in his eyes I see engraved the word, 'TEA'. ”Wakey wakey,” he said, but didn't. The s.h.i.+p is silent. The helmsman's face shows white through the wheel house. Yes, that's Thin Thunder. ”Shhhhhh,” we all shout. The chill morning air touches the khaki somnam-bulists sleeping heroically for their King and Country. We are awakened by Gunner Woods in the driving cab, who has fallen asleep on the motor horn. A puzzled s.h.i.+p's Captain is wondering why he can hear the sound of a lorry at sea. Kidgell gives a great jaw-cracking yawn and that's him finished for the day. He stretches himself but doesn't get any longer. Deep in his eyes I see engraved the word, 'TEA'. ”Wakey wakey,” he said, but didn't. The s.h.i.+p is silent. The helmsman's face shows white through the wheel house.
[image]
HMS Boxer, which landed us at Salerno. This picture was taken after the war, when she'd been converted to a Radar s.h.i.+p which landed us at Salerno. This picture was taken after the war, when she'd been converted to a Radar s.h.i.+p.
”It is Dawn,” yawns Kidgell. ”My watch says twenty past,” I yawned. ”Yes! It's exactly exactly twenty past Dawn,” he yawned. We yawned. Like a comedy duo, we both stand and pull our trousers on; mistake! he has mine and vice versa. The light is growing in the Eastern sky, it reveals a great grey convoy of s.h.i.+ps, plunging and rising at the dictation of the sea. LCTs. LCTs, some thirty of them, all flanked by navy Z-Cla.s.s destroyers. The one on our port bow is stencilled B4. Imagine the confusion of a wireless conversation with it. twenty past Dawn,” he yawned. We yawned. Like a comedy duo, we both stand and pull our trousers on; mistake! he has mine and vice versa. The light is growing in the Eastern sky, it reveals a great grey convoy of s.h.i.+ps, plunging and rising at the dictation of the sea. LCTs. LCTs, some thirty of them, all flanked by navy Z-Cla.s.s destroyers. The one on our port bow is stencilled B4. Imagine the confusion of a wireless conversation with it.
”h.e.l.lo B4, are you receiving me?”
PAUSE.
”h.e.l.lo B4 answering.”
PAUSE.
”h.e.l.lo B4, why didn't you answer B4?”
”Because we didn't hear you before.” In the early light the sea is blue-black like ink. Kidgell is carefully folding his blankets into a mess, ”I haven't slept that well for years.”
”How do you know?” I said. ”You said. ”You were asleep were asleep.” He chuckled, ”Well it it feels like I feels like I slept slept well well.”
”Where did you feel it, in the legs? the elbows? teeth?” I was determined to pursue the matter to its illogical conclusion; I mean if sane sane people are going around saying 'I slept well last night', what would lunatics say? 'I stayed awake all night so I could see if I slept well'? I mean-we are interrupted by the shattering roar of aircraft!! ”Spitfires!” someone said, and we all got up again. people are going around saying 'I slept well last night', what would lunatics say? 'I stayed awake all night so I could see if I slept well'? I mean-we are interrupted by the shattering roar of aircraft!! ”Spitfires!” someone said, and we all got up again.
”Thank G.o.d they weren't German,” says Kidgell. ”Why thank him,” I said. ”He doesn't run the German air force, thank Hitler.”
”Alright, clever d.i.c.k.” He giggled. ”This is going to sound silly-thank Hitler they weren't Germans.”
The helmsman's face showed white through the wheel house.
I produce a packet of Woodbines. I offer one to Kidgell. I have to...he's got the matches. My watch says 12.20; that means it's about seven o'clock. We stow our gear into a lorry full of sleeping Gunners with variable pitch snoring; three of them are snoring the chord of C Minor. We decide to walk 'forrard'. The Boxer Boxer makes a frothy swathe as her flat prow divides the waters. The sky is turning into post-dawn colours-scarlet, pink, lemon. It looked like the ending of a treacly MGM film where John Wayne joins his Ghost Riders in the sky. (Personally I can't wait for him to.) It's chilly; we wear overcoats with the collars up. Kidgell looks pensively out towards Italy. makes a frothy swathe as her flat prow divides the waters. The sky is turning into post-dawn colours-scarlet, pink, lemon. It looked like the ending of a treacly MGM film where John Wayne joins his Ghost Riders in the sky. (Personally I can't wait for him to.) It's chilly; we wear overcoats with the collars up. Kidgell looks pensively out towards Italy.
”I was wondering about the landing.”
”Don't worry about the landing, I'll hoover it in the morning.”
He ignored me, but then everybody did. ”I've been thinking.”
”Thinking? This could mean promotion,” I said.
”I was thinking, supposing they land us in six foot of water.”
”Then everyone five foot eleven and three quarters will drown.”
”That's the end of me, then.”
”I thought you were a champion swimmer!”
”You can't swim in Army Boots.”
”You're right, there is not enough room.”
”What are are you talking about?” you talking about?”
”I'm talking about ten words to the minute.”
A merry matelot approaches with a Huge Brown Kettle. ”You lads like some cocoa?”
We galloped at the speed of light to our big packs and returned to meet the merry matelot as he descended from the Bridge. He pours out the thick brown remaining sludge. The gulls in our wake scream as they dive-bomb the morning garbage. We sip the cocoa, holding the mug with both hands to warm them. A change from holding the mug to warm the Naafi tea. Another cigarette, what a lunatic habit! ”Here we are,” I said. ”We go to these b.a.s.t.a.r.ds who make this c.r.a.p and we say 'We will give you money for twenty of those f.a.gs', we smoke them, we make the product disappear I disappear I Ha! Supposing you bought a piano on the same basis? Suddenly, in the middle of a concert it disappears, you have to belt out and buy another one to finish the concerto. It's lunacy.” Ha! Supposing you bought a piano on the same basis? Suddenly, in the middle of a concert it disappears, you have to belt out and buy another one to finish the concerto. It's lunacy.”
In the deck-house, a red-faced officer scans the horizon ahead. ”I wonder exactly where we are,” says Kidgell.
”I think we're on the ancient sea of Tyrrhenum Sive Inferum.” That finishes him.
”When we reach Sicily we will hug the coast to afford us air cover and the way things are, I'd say we could just just afford it.” afford it.”
We are travelling one of the most ancient trade routes in history, Carthaginians, Greeks, Romans, Mamelukes, Turks and Mrs Doris Hare. ”Fancy us being part of history,” I said. ”I don't fancy it,” said Kidgell.
The Tannoys crackle. ”Attention, please.”
A Gunner faints. ”What's up?” we ask.
”I thought I heard someone say please.”