Monty, his part in my victory - Spike Milligan [30]
HMS Boxer the LST that look us to Salerno
“There’s no bunks, sleep wherever you can,” said Lt Pride.
We are issued with seasick pils. I never suffer from this so I threw them over the side where fish ate them and were immediately sick.
“It’s all very exciting,” says Kidgell. “Wonder what they’re going to do with us.”
“First make us sea sick, and when we are vomiting at our limit, land us on a beach in Italy under shell fire.”
The ramp is being winched up. “Ello, we’re off then,” the engines throb into ‘Hard Astern’, we hear the ring of the ship’s telegraph. We pull away from the jetty, we are all lining the railing. It’s six o’clock as we pull into the middle of Lac de Bizerta.
“Well,” says Doug Kidgell, rubbing his hands with excitement, “we’re off at last,” whereupon we drop anchor.
“You were saying?” I said.
There’s a cool breeze from the sea. “Grub up,” we all troop down to the galley where containers of hot stew are opened and doled out with a mug of ship’s cocoa.
“Like a fag?” A sailor, short and squat, holds out a fifty tin of ships’ Woodbines, in those days a luxury.
“Ta,” I said with certain amount of surprise.
“Take a handful,” he said. “This is a trap,” I thought. “You’re not queer are you,” I said.
His name was Eddie Hackshaw. As darkness fell there was a feeling of frustration on board, so I got out me bugle and, down on the mess deck, blew some tunes. Eddie Hackshaw was so pleased he gave me a silver Arab ring.
“It will bring you good luck,” he forecast.
“Good luck?” I said. “What’s that.”
He wangled an extra mug of cocoa for me before we all settled for the night. Doug Kidgell and I slept on top of his Scammell. It was incredibly quiet. We could hear the lap of waves against the ship.
Gunner Edgington attempting to smuggle Gunner Milligan out of Africa in a NAAFI tea chest
As I lay, stretched out on top of the huge Scammell lorry, believing I would surely die at Salerno, I started to cogitate on my Will, the last one I had made out was when I was due to get killed in the North African landings, however, we had arrived too late. My most expensive possession was my trumpet, I wanted that buried with me in case I am buried alive, I could blow a few bars and they would dig me up again. Second most expensive item, twenty Wills Woodbines in an old tobacco tin. Then there were the women…“Listen to this Kidgell — I want you to be a witness, it is my last Will and Testament.”
“You making it out on top of a lorry?” he said in disgust.
“No better place — listen, my women — I leave Ivy Chandler and three Woodbines to Gunner Chalky White. I leave Kay of Herstmonceux to Gunner Devine, I leave Betty Ormsman and one Woodbine to Gunner Kidgell.”
“Is that the one with the big boobs?”
“Yer.”
“Smashing…but only one Woodbine?”
“That’s all you’ll have time for with her!…Now to Gunner ‘Plunger’ Bailey, I leave Shirley Wright, Mrs Eileen Leech and Molly Parkinson.”
“That’s not enough for ‘im.”
“It’ll have to do…this is an emergency…Now to my mother, I leave my brother, to my father I leave my mother.”
“Wot you going to leave your brother?”
“I’m going to leave him alone…”
Those were the last thoughts as I dropped into a sleep that would terminate in Volume IV…what time will Bombardier Milligan arise, what will be his first words to the dawn…? Read all about it in Volume IV, order your copy today. I need a reason to start writing it.
“I wonder why we’re waiting?” I said as I threw my stubend over the side.
“We’re waiting for the tide,” says Kidgell.
“That’s the best news I’ve had.”
“Why?”
“The Med’s tideless.”
Table of Contents
PREFACE
Editorial acknowledgement
Our First Victory May 7th 1943
May 8th 1943
May 9th 1943
May 11th 1943
May 12 1943
May 12th 1943
14 The Tunis Love-in Tunis 13 May
Letters from Home 13 May 1943
14 May 1943. Afternoon to 15 May
May 15th 1943
Oudna 13 May 1943
May 15 1943
16 May 1943
Oudna Idyll