Rommel_ Gunner Who__ A Confrontation in - Spike Milligan [17]
17th Feb. Dawn
Yawning, I slipped the Humber into gear. “Rendezvous Map Reference 68039.” said Lt Budden. “You holidayed in Cornwall you say?”
The road was difficult. Come to think of it, so was I. It was marked camel track and it took us to El Aroussa, a small wayside railway station, now a smoking ruin. Around it were the blackened skeletons of a dozen or so lorries. Inside shattered buildings were blood spattered walls, blood soaked battle dress jackets and trousers. An old Arab, all that was left of the station staff (“Toute morte”) described how it happened. Stukas had come yesterday, in a few minutes it was all over.
“Christ,” says Bdr Sherwood. “What’s happened?”
“Don’t worry, these are only the cheap seats,” I said.
“He must have been a bad driver,” said Chalky White. The humour was a bit forced. None of us were sure what to say. The officers were grouped around a map, and appeared more excited than is good for English gentlemen.
“What are they on?” said Chalky.
“Vitamin B.” I said.
Up the line comes Chater Jack’s truck. “Prepare to move! Lads, Yoiks, Tally Ho!”
We followed him towards Bou Arada. Half a mile on he turned left across the railway lines, down a bank, over a dusty wheat field towards a small farm nestling at the foot of the Djbel Rihane (nicknamed ‘Grandstand Hill’). Behind, the great khaki guns rolled like fat babies as they negotiated the bosomy terrain. The silence was broken by the sharp crack of artillery.
“They sound like Mediums,” said Lt Budden.
“Too small sir,” I said. “I take Outsize.”
Sergeant Dawson raced past on his motorbike; when we arrived at the farm, he was waiting with the Major, soon the area was a mass of frenetic action.
“Scrim Nelson!”
“Disperse Wireless Trucks under those trees!”
“Monkey trucks prepare to lay ten-mile telephone line!”
“All guns in that Wadi there!”
“Bombardier ? Form OP Party!”
“For God’s sake,” I said, “There’s more orders than men.” Edgington joined in, “All Gunners stand on one leg and lean eastward.”
The guns were towed into a Wadi. Command Post tent appeared to have been put up by trainee Wolf Cubs. Bren guns were mounted against aircraft. “Lucky sods,” said White, “all they got to do is scratch their balls and look up.”
The 200 lb mustard coloured shells were being unloaded and stacked. Signallers were lugging communications equipment into the Command Post, specialists were putting up Artillery Boards and all those fiddling instruments that computed which German the shell would hit. Of course they could have put all the names in a hat. A trestle table was erected for the Tannoy Control. Next to it were the telephone and the wireless set. Cables were run to the gun positions, loudspeakers at each sub-section connected and tested. It worked like this. Place loudspeaker near gun, connect wire from Command Post, press button on top of loudspeaker at Gun Position. Immediately light flashes in Command Post control panel.
“Hello B Sub. You’re flashing, can you hear me?”
“Yes, but we’re not B Sub, we’re A Sub.”
“Oh fuck, can you flash again?”
“I’m not going to become a flasher fer anybody.”
Signallers are laying a line to the Waggon Lines, the place for vital supplies, vehicles, cowards, and Porridge. It is important to appear busy. Gunner White was cunningly going round with an empty DDT tin, when questioned, he would spring to attention and say “Delousing Sah!” and he got away with it. On the next page I have drawn from diary a plan of the 19 Battery layout including the sleeping accommodation.
19 Battery gunners specially marked with large white crosses to make them easier targets for the Germans
Major Chater Jack’s letter of the time recounts:
…perhaps an idea of what my H.Q, looks like would be possible but to get the atmosphere is impossible. It is rather like one of the original structures