Monty, his part in my victory - Spike Milligan [17]
≡ He was mistaken, they were Mark III’s.
There was a hasty retreat to the foot of the hill. The Lt ordered everyone to stay put, and then buggered off. They heard tanks approaching, and there was further stomach trouble. Gnr Forrest pointed to a pile of rocks and abandoned pick handles.
“We’ll need them,” said Forrest.
“Wot for?” said Donaldson.
Said Forrest, “When tanks come, we chuck rocks at turret, and when bloke inside opens turret to see what noise is, we hit him on the head with pick handle…”
I could hear the screams of “Kamerad!” as the vicious pick handles bit deep into the four inch armour plate.
Lucky for Donaldson, Churchill Tanks of the North Irish Horse came on the scene and saved them for a worse fate -cold stew for dinner.
The Afrika Korps having lost North Africa try to play their way back to favour with the Führer
Chater Jack had cheerfully told the Mayor of Setif that he had ‘une belle Orchestra de Jazz’ so we found ourselves playing at ‘Thé Dansant’, where 500 Gunners tried to dance with 2 girls and an old French matron, with a face like Schnozzle Durante’s pulled inside out. The place, I recall, was the Salle de Fête. Edgington called it a Fête worse than death.
As I lay abed that night a voice was heard singing:
No rose in all the world,
Until you came…
It was full of tender meaning, the voice floated on the night air, in the silence of the giant Continent it seemed strange to hear that voice — a young English voice. The song continued and soared until it concluded on a high exquisite delicate falsetto. Silence settled on the land.
“Thank fuck, ‘e’s finished,” said a voice. It was one of those little cameos that lightened the darkness.
French Concert Party
Fri. 18th June 1943
Milligan? Band is to report to 74 Mediums, music playing, for the uses of.”
At 74 Mediums camp we were greeted by a humptey-backed Captain who appeared to be training for death.
“I’d like you to do your turn in the miggle of the show.”
“When?”
“The miggle of the show.” He definitely said. miggle — so! he couldn’t pronounce his D’s. “How woulg you like to be an-nounceg?”
I paused. “D Battery Dance Duo and Doug on Drums.”
Carefully he wrote it down.
Would we like drinks? OK. The stage consists of trestle tables covered with blankets. I am a trumpet player covered in battledress. A charabanc arrived with the Algiers Opera Company. First to alight was Soprano Mlle Beth Villion, she must have been 15 stone, the charabanc rose 3 ft when she ‘ got off. “Cor,” said Harry, “there’s enough for all of us.” She was followed by a petite soprano, Mlle Garcia. “You’re mine, all mine,” says Doug clutching his parts, next came a crazed mop-headed French Algerian Pianist.
A tent had been erected for the ladies to change in. Gunner Liddle detected a hole in it…what he saw set his testicles revolving, Mlle Villion was sitting on a stool, naked, making up; Liddle a sporting man, spread the word. My god! the size! She could sit in one spot and still be several other places at the same time.
The concert started, and finally it was our turn. The Captain annunced “I have great pleasure in announcing G Gattery Gance plus Goug on Grums.” Got ‘im! We belted through our numbers, got a great reception, and then cleared for Mlle Garcia. During the interval a human being dressed up as a Gunner approached me. “You don’t know me . from Adam,” he said. I told him he must be better dressed.
The stranger was Gunner Snashall (Snatch) from the 8th Survey Regiment, he said he played the violin and could he sit in on the next session. OK, we said. It turned out that he was great, a real good Jazz violin player, though the fact that he appeared with a garland of wild flowers around his head was a bit disconcerting.
Gunner Snashall
Setif — Musicians resting!
Mlle Villion in a black