Adolf Hitler_ my part in his downfall - Spike Milligan [45]
“That’s right, we’d be saved in the nick of time.” We didn’t swim to Tangiers that night. Tannoys came to life. “Cigarettes out on deck.” It was dark. Harry and I promenaded the decks. The night was warm, clear, starry. The air was like balm. Phosphorus trailed in our wake like undersea glow-worms. We were given permission to sleep up on the top deck, provided no late-night customs were performed at ship’s rails. The joy of lying on your back facing a starry sky is something I remember for its sheer simplicity. Not that we weren’t living a simple life. Oh no, we were all bloody simple or we wouldn’t be in this boat. With the storm behind us, Chaterjack, M.C., D.S.O., tired of throwing empty whisky bottles overboard, decided life was dull. The band was to play for dancing in the Officers’ Lounge from 21:30 bells to 23:59. Regarding this, I quote from a letter I had from Chaterjack in March, 1958, in which he recalls the occasion ‘Many episodes may well come up during your reminiscences on Friday.↓
≡ The day of the D Battery reunion.
One vivid one to me starts as early as our embarkation at Liverpool: we had been well warned by RHQ that if we were spotted trying to camouflage the band instruments amongst, the embarkation stores, they would go into the sea. Being fairly efficient soldiers, we embarked the band—camouflaged as I know not what and there the matter ended for the moment. It ended until we had survived the Bay of Biscay through which the vessel rolled almost over the danger angle, though most people were below decks, beyond caring, slung in hammocks and racked with sea-sickness. Surviving all this, we turned towards Gib., the sun shone, the sea was calm and a band was badly wanted. RH(a asked shamefacedly if we had wangled it on board, we admitted, pokerfaced, that we had all was well, the band played, people struggled on deck, the sun shone and we approached Algiers in full fine fettle.
It was fun rummaging in the hold among Bren carriers and cannons to find a drum kit. “Oh God,” said Alf, “my guitar’s all packed up for the trip.”
“Well,” I said, “let’s unpack it, we can pretend it’s Christmas.” He hit me. That night we were in great form. It’s a great feeling playing Jazz. Most certainly it never started a war. The floor space was limited, and crowded with pump-handle couples. There were service ladies, with a predominance of (queen Alexandra Nursing Sisters (where were they when the decks were strewn with seasick soldiers?). We saw strange gyrations as the ship rolled the dancers into a corner, then rolled them across to the other one. To include ‘Cocking of the Legs’ we played a reel. Sure enough, they responded like Pavlov’s dogs. At the evening’s end Major Chaterjack, M.C., D.S.O., thanked the band and passed the hat round for some financial tribute. Mean bastards. We’d have got more if we’d sold the hat. We had to restrain Harry from playing the Warsaw Concerto. Major Chaterjack, M.C., D.S.O., made it up by giving us half a bottle of whisky. Swinging gently in hammocks, we passed the bottle back and forth until we fell into a smiling sleep. It was the best day we’d had at sea. From now on the weather improved. Those who had suffered sickness were now strong enough to lie down without help. The morning after the dance was perfect. Clear sky. No wind. Calm sea. We were dive-bombed. “Tin hats on,” boomed the Tannoy. Gun crews were all caught with their pants down.
(There was some kind of medical inspection at the time.) Chaterjack’s batman awakened, him: “Sir, an Iti plane is bombing us.”
“Don’t worry,” said Chaterjack, “he’s allowed to,” and added, “Did you get his number?” It was an old lumbering three-engined Caproni. We let fly a few rounds at him, it didn’t seem fair, like shooting a grandmother. So we just waved him goodbye. After this attack, gun crews became trigger-happy. The sight of a seagull was the signal for thunderous barrages. It had to be stopped. The ship’s Captain addressed us over the Tannoy. “Gentlemen, all seagulls in the area are unarmed, can we refrain from shooting