Monty, his part in my victory - Spike Milligan [0]
His Part in My Victory
(Memoires volume 3)
(Non fiction)
by Spike Milligan
1976
* * *
Edgington knocks his duff into the fire
PREFACE
This Volume will cover from the fall of Tunis until our embarkation for the Salerno Landings. I have gone over the ground again, relating in more detail the days preceding the capture of Tunis, using my own diary, those of the Regiment, the Battery, and that of Driver Alf Fildes, who came up with lots of things I’d forgotten, like how much I owed him. During this period, we did nothing but play at soldiere, having good times, having bad times, and times -neither good nor bad which consisted of lying in a red hot tent, looking at the join, and pretending you’re having a good time, when in fact it was a bad time, but in the main it was a good time. I had with me wonderful comrades who made life worth while, anything that failed was laughed at. It was all a big joke that would stop when Hitler had his chips. Again thanks to Syd Price for his photos, Syd Carter for his watercolours, Mr Bart H. Vanderveen for photos of war time vehicles, Doug Kidgell for committing his memories onto tape, Harry Edgington for his letters, the Imperial War Museum for photographs, Al Fildes for his war diary, and D Battery Reunion Committee for reminding me of many incidents I’d forgotten, like how much I owed them.
393 Orange Grove Rd,
Woy Woy, N.S.W.,
Australia
Editorial acknowledgement
To Mr Moy, a London taxi driver, who returned the manuscript of the book to the editor with no claim for reward and without whom this book would not have appeared.
J.H.
Our First Victory
May 7th 1943
In a tent, dripping with rain, battery clerk, L/Bdr Mick (I think I’m ruptured) Haymer, rattled a dodgy typewriter and printed ‘Tebourba ¾ reported % clear of ½ enemy, @ leading elements of Armoured Div, dntering e Tunis & ¾.’ That day fighting reached maximum intensity, and at 3.20 Tunis fell. “We got to engage pockets of die-hard’s holding out on Djbel El Aroussia,” said a man claiming to be a Sergeant.
“Wot’s die-hards?” asked Gnr Birch.
“Well, when you die you go ‘ard,” says White, “like gangsters in cement.”
“That’s why they’re called hardened criminals,” says Birch.
“You’re a cunt,” says Devine.
“Tunis fallen?! Ups a daisy!”
Had we ordinary layabouts beaten the formidable German Army?
Dear Führer, beaten ve haff been by zer Ordinary Layabouts, signed Formidable German Army.
“We won,” said White, as though it had been a game of football. Gunner Lee parts his hair, the comb clogged with a six months paté of Brylcream and dust. “I bet the victory cost Ladbrokes a fortune, we was 100-1.”
“I hear there’s fighting in Cap Bon.”
“You must have good hearing, that’s 20 miles away.”
We gathered round the Cook House in a gulley adjacent to the now silent guns. Looming behind us is Longstop Hill, a blood drenched salient taken at Bayonet point by the Argylls. In the twilight our ground sheets glistened with rain.
“What’s for the victory feast?” says a cheery voice. Something that went ‘Splush!’ was dropped in his mess tin.
M.P. booking a 17 pounder for parking on the wrong side of the battlefield
May 8th 1943
Deluge. The rain not only fell mainly on the plain in Spain, it also fell mainly on the back of the bloody neck, dripping down the spine into the socks where it came out of the lace-holes in the boots.
Christ!!! we got to move again! “Who runs this bloody Battery? Carter Paterson?” In darkness we load vehicles. I crash into someone.
“Who’s that?”
“Don’t know, I think I start with G. Who are you?”
“If this thing on my back isn’t a kit bag, I’m Quasimodo.”
I backed a truck down a slope; a scream. “Owwww fuck!”
“What’s that?” I said.
“Me foot.”
“I never knew it swore.” A fist hits me in the earhole.
The move is held up by torrential rain, meanwhile Sgt Dawson has got ‘Bludy mulharia’ and is taken sweating, farting and shaking to hospital. “That’s what comes of flogging ‘is Mepacrin tablets to the wogs as sweets.”
Rain. Mud. Boredom.
“Christ,” said Gnr